


Song of Magic

by AntarcticBird



Category: Glee
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-30
Updated: 2015-12-30
Packaged: 2018-05-10 10:24:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 24
Words: 45,515
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5582104
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AntarcticBird/pseuds/AntarcticBird
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Blaine doesn’t know a lot about NYADA, except that his roommate insists it’s a school for magic.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. anniversary

**Author's Note:**

> This was my fill for the klaineadvent 2015 drabble challenge. I've cleaned the whole thing up a bit, to get rid of any continuity errors. Here it is now in its entirety.

“This is ridiculous,” Blaine says, struggling uselessly against Sam's vice-like grip on his wrist as his best friend enthusiastically pulls him along down the crowded New York sidewalk. “Let me go! I want to go home!”

Sam bounces a little on his feet, shakes his head so his too-long hair flies all around his face as he beams back at Blaine. “It's tradition! You can't bail on tradition!”

“It's a ridiculous tradition,” Blaine points out. “And does it really count as one if it's only the second time?”

“Of course it counts,” Sam says absentmindedly, strides straight through a group of middle-aged people gathered outside a bakery – Blaine hastily throws apologies left and right as people hop out of Sam's way looking terrified. “What would you even want at home?”

“I have plans.”

Sam snorts. “Meaning you want to eat cronuts in your pajamas and read Star Wars fanfiction.”

Blaine sticks his chin out, head held high. “So I have plans with myself. They're still important!”

“So is this!” Sam gasps. “One year since we came to New York!”

“Do other people celebrate the day they first moved into a crappy dorm room? Is this a thing normal people do?”

“Who wants to be normal anyway?” Sam shrugs. “And you have a better roommate now anyway.” He winks at Blaine.

Blaine continues to pout. “A roommate who drags me half-way across the city for a lousy cup of coffee when I'd much rather stay in.”

“The Spotlight Diner is your favorite, don't pretend otherwise!”

“Yeah, well.” Blaine snorts. “You only want to go there because of that waitress you like.”

“Actually -” Sam blushes. “Mercedes isn't working today.”

“So you'll actually talk to me in there for once?”

“Um -” Sam blushes even darker.

“Sam?” Blaine asks. “What are you not telling me?”

“Nothing.”

“Sam!”

“Fine, fine!” Sam sighs loudly, stops right outside the Spotlight Diner's door, staring at his shoes instead of meeting Blaine's eyes. “I – sort of invited her to join us for coffee? Today?”

Blaine gapes at him. “You asked her out and then dragged me along – on your _first date_? Are you completely _insane_?”

“I get really nervous around her!”

“And _how_ is having me sitting awkwardly between you two gonna help you with that?” Blaine only almost yells at him. He has, however, a strong urge to poke him in the chest, so he goes with it. “I can't believe you made me put on pants for this. On a _Saturday_.”

“I'm sorry?” Sam tries lamely. “Look, I'll buy you all the pastries you can eat and as much coffee as you want and you can read me another chapter of that Luke/Biggs fic you're obsessed with when we get home. Okay?”

Blaine groans, resists the urge to run a hand through his carefully gelled hair. No reason to mess it up though just because he chose the weirdest weirdo in the history of ever as his best friend. “Okay. Whatever. _Fine_.”

“You're the best,” Sam says, already sounding quite cheerful again, slapping Blaine's shoulder hard enough to make him stagger sideways a little.

“You're damn right I am,” Blaine mumbles, making no attempt to look happy as he shuffles after Sam into the diner. “Friendship anniversary my ass, if I'm spending my Saturday as a chaperone for you you're damn well gonna buy me the fucking biggest cronut I can find in here.”

Sam's not really listening anymore as he sees Mercedes already seated in a booth across the room. Blaine watches his eyes light up, rolls his own, and gives Sam a friendly shove between the shoulder blades. “Go impress her with your impressions and I'll order us some coffee and cake, okay?”

“Yeah, sure, sounds awesome,” Sam says distractedly, already off on his way over to her.

Blaine makes his way over to the counter much more slowly – at least he knows most of the people who work here by now, so with any luck he won't be completely on his own all afternoon.

He looks up as he approaches the counter to see who is working today and almost stumbles over his feet, catching himself at the last minute. Because – behind that counter is the most gorgeous human being he has ever laid eyes on, not anyone he's ever seen here before, or anywhere for that matter. For a moment, he just stares, then quickly averts his gaze, does his best to look inconspicuous. Which is not an easy thing to do when you're blushing so hard your skin feels like it's on fire.

“Hi,” he says, maybe just a little too loudly as he reaches the counter.

“Hey,” the guy says, and Blaine flashes a glance at his name tag – it says Kurt. _Kurt_. “What can I do for you?”

Blaine makes himself look up, opens and closes his mouth, not sure how to not make a complete fool of himself. He has a tendency to go a bit overboard when he gets emotional, and this guy – Kurt – well. Blaine has no trouble admitting to himself that he's feeling rather … flustered. “Um,” he says eloquently.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks, tilting his head at him in a way that just makes him look all kinds of adorable on top of heartbreakingly beautiful.

“Yeah, yeah, sorry.” Blaine shakes his head, and after the weird silence, starts babbling now. “I'm just, um. Hiding. From my friend. Who is sort of on a date, I guess. I mean, I think he is. I know _he_ thinks he is. I'm not sure anyone else knows. He kind of dragged me along for – I guess moral support, which … I'm not quite sure what to do now because obviously I don't want to be in their way, but I can't just leave either because technically it's our anniversary and -”

Kurt laughs. “You and your friend have an anniversary?”

“Yeah, well.” Blaine laughs. “He insists on calling it that. It's just been one year today since we moved to New York for college and he tricked me out of the apartment by promising me baked goods.”

Kurt smiles. “You live together?”

Blaine nods. “Gave up the dorms at the end of last semester. Now we live in a shoebox with paper-thin walls and no hot water in the mornings, but at least it's sort of _our_ shoebox with paper-thin walls and no hot water in the mornings.”

“I get that.” Kurt nods. “I used to share a drafty loft with no walls and a door that wouldn't lock properly with a varying number of friends all through last year, and I'd choose that place over the NYADA dorms any day. Which is where I'm stuck now.”

“Oh!” Blaine feels his eyes light up. “You go to NYADA?”

“Yeah.” Kurt shrugs. “You've heard of it?”

“Mostly because my friend Sam insists that it's a school for witches,” Blaine says before he can stop himself. He blushes darkly. “Sorry. I mean – _he_ said that. I don't – I don't think that -”

“It's okay.” Kurt laughs, a little too loudly, before quickly turning his head away. It's kind of … weird. “So, can I get you anything?”

“I -” Blaine clears his throat, not sure he wants their conversation to end. “I'm Blaine, by the way.”

“Nice to meet you, Blaine,” Kurt says, and flickers him the tiniest smile. “I'm Kurt. But -” he gestures to the name tag, “you probably gathered that already.”

“Yeah.” Blaine chuckles. “Nice to meet you, Kurt. And I really didn't mean to insult your school. It's a performing arts college, isn't it?”

“A really small one that most people have never even really heard of,” Kurt says. “That one with the witches is actually one of the funnier rumors I've heard about it.”

“I meant it to be funny. I really wasn't insulting it,” Blaine promises.

“I know,” Kurt says, hesitates, then leans forward a little with a crooked grin on his face, whispers loudly, “Of course you're right! It's a magic college for the more musically inclined modern mage!”

Blaine can't hold back the grin at Kurt's obvious silliness. “So.” He props an elbow on the counter, waggles his eyebrows in an attempt to make Kurt laugh again. “Are you a witch, Kurt?”

Kurt does laugh at that. “Clearly,” he says. “You've got me all figured out.”

“I'm at NYU, by the way,” Blaine says.

“Performing arts?” Kurt wants to know.

Blaine nods. “How did you know?”

Kurt lifts his shoulders. “I've been told that all the NYU performing arts kids hang out here.”

“Because of the stage,” Blaine says.

“Because of the stage,” Kurt confirms, and his grin this time looks real.

“I guess it's true. We do come here a lot. Everyone wants to work here. This is like … my second living room.” He grins. “But, hey, I've never heard _you_ sing up there. Don't all waiters have to perform a number of times per shift? That's what it said on the application I took home a few days ago.”

“Oh.” Kurt shakes his head. “Yeah, we do. That's why I applied here instead of somewhere closer to school or my apartment. I could use the practice, I guess. But it's only my first day.”

“I see.” Blaine smiles at him, and at least this explains why he's never seen Kurt here before. He would remember his face if he had.

“Now, do you want coffee or what?” Kurt asks, smiling back at him. “I feel kind of useless just standing here chatting with you, and I'm still a little worried of getting fired on my first day.”

“Well, we can't have that,” Blaine answers.

“It was a very pleasant chat though,” Kurt says, and his face flushes red as he bites his lip and lowers his eyes. It's the most adorable thing Blaine has ever seen.

“Extremely pleasant,” he confirms, and casts a quick glance back at Sam and Mercedes who seem to be in deep conversation, heads close together, both of them smiling widely. “Hey, um,” he says to Kurt. “Do you think it's okay if I hang out here for a while? I really don't want to interrupt those two if I don't have to. I'll even finally order that coffee.”

Kurt nods and meets his eyes and Blaine can't look away. “That's fine with me,” he says. “Let me get their orders and then I'll get you your coffee? And those baked goods your friend promised you?”

“Sounds good to me,” Blaine answers, and holds Kurt's gaze for another long moment.

He really did have plans for today, but he's starting to be a little bit grateful for Sam dragging him out to the diner instead. It's looking to be a rather good afternoon, and hopefully it will get even better from here.


	2. Broadway

Blaine's Saturday ends up being quite good. He doesn't join Sam and Mercedes, who seem to be doing fine without him. Instead, he hangs out at the counter, has a cronut that Sam pays for and a piece of cheesecake that Kurt recommends. He also has a lot of coffee, and a lot of really amazing conversation.

Kurt has the best sense of humor, he's smart, his laugh is the most beautiful sound Blaine has ever heard, and he has excellent taste in music and television. They never run out of things to talk about, and Kurt always comes back to him when his tables are quiet. It's a slow day anyway since classes only start next week and the usual NYU theater crowd that hangs out here is only just trickling back into the city over the weekend.

Blaine is sad when they have to leave at last, but Mercedes has a gig somewhere that night and has to get going and Blaine knows Sam will want to talk about his afternoon as soon as she's on her way. So he decides to be a good friend and leave with him, even if he would much rather stay and keep chatting with Kurt.

“You can hang out here for a while, I don't need you to babysit me,” Sam assures him after he's said goodbye to Mercedes, who is currently hugging Kurt by the door – apparently those two know each other.

“No, that's fine,” Blaine says. 

Sam nods in Kurt's direction, his grin all smug as he looks at Blaine. “Are you sure?”

Blaine has to bite his lip to keep his own smile from spreading too big. “Yeah,” he says, even though he's not. “And besides, I'm only here _because_ you needed a babysitter earlier.”

“I'll let you say goodbye,” Sam says, completely ignoring his last comment, then whispers loud enough for the entire diner to hear, “ _get his number!_ ”

Blaine blushes, buries his face in his hands as Sam waltzes off toward the restrooms just as Kurt comes back over to where Blaine is still seated.

“Seems like your friend wants to go,” Kurt says with a small smile.

“Oh, yeah.” Blaine nods. “I should probably too – I mean, he'll want to … talk.”

“Yeah.”

“Thank you for keeping me company,” Blaine says. “I really appreciated it.”

“It was my pleasure,” Kurt promises, and blushes deeply. It makes Blaine's heart beat faster in his chest.

“I'm … sure we'll run into each other again,” Blaine says. “I come here all the time.” he is trying to muster up the courage to ask Kurt for his number when Kurt clears his throat, takes a tentative step forward.

“Or we could run into each other somewhere else,” he says.

Blaine pauses. “Uh … I guess … we could?

“I mean, I'm so sorry if I'm completely misinterpreting things, but, uh, if you'd wanted to, we could … keep talking. You have good taste in music and we still haven't settled our debate over cheesecake versus cronuts, and I'm determined to convince you that I'm right.”

“That might take a while,” Blaine says.

“Then you should probably let me give you my number so you can text me all the reasons why I'm wrong.”

“And you should let me give you my number so you can tell me why you're right,” Blaine answers, bouncing a little in his seat.

“Absolutely,” Kurt says, holding his hand out for Blaine's phone.

Blaine is _definitely_ grateful that Sam dragged him out here today.

**

“Mercedes is friends with him,” Sam says as they're heading down the sidewalk together towards the subway.

“She is?”

“Apparently they went to high school together.”

“So she's not at NYADA with him?”

Sam's eyes widen. “She's focusing on her music career. Dude! He's at NYADA?”

Blaine sighs. “Yes, and before you can say anything: no, he's not a wizard. It's a musical theater school. No wizards and witches of any kind there.”

“Are you sure?” Sam squints at him.

“Yes, I'm sure.”

“How?”

“I asked him.”

Sam gasps. “You did?”

“Yup.”

“And he flat-out denied it?”

Blaine hesitates, then mentally kicks himself for it. This is _silly_. “Not … really. But he was totally joking. Magic isn't real, Sam.”

Sam shrugs, follows Blaine down the stairs to the subway. “Whatever you say, man. But Mercedes totally has magic powers, I'm telling you.”

Blaine sighs again, heavily, and changes the topic. Sam had once tried to convince him that their gym teacher was a Jedi. And then that his ex-girlfriend's cat could talk. He has a very overactive imagination. Blaine is sure that he'll get bored with this magic talk soon enough.

**

He texts Kurt as soon as he's home and safely parked on the couch with some hot chocolate cooling on the coffee table in front of him and Sam already headed out again to go to the gym as he does every night.

_It was nice meeting you today_ , he writes.

Kurt must be off work by now, because his reply comes just a few minutes later, just when Blaine has his laptop comfortably positioned on his belly and scrolled back down to the place he left off reading his current favorite fic earlier.

_Same! You made my first day on the job much easier, thank you for making me forget to be nervous about spilling something or getting all of the orders wrong._

Blaine smiles, forgets about reading for now, and starts typing out a reply.

**

They keep texting throughout the week. Classes start back up but it's only the first week, and Blaine texts between classes, texts while walking down busy New York sideways, texts before falling asleep every night, texts over breakfast and coffee and in between paragraphs of the chapter he has to read for class. Kurt always texts back.

On Wednesday Blaine makes it back to the Spotlight Diner on an afternoon he knows Kurt is working, but it's a busy day and they don't get to exchange much more than a few words and a rather large number of aborted glances and awkward smiles that have them both blushing a lot.

Once he gets home from class on Friday, Blaine finally gathers all of his courage and decides he's ready to send the text he has wanted to send for almost a full week now. He just needs to build up to it subtly.

_Weekend! Yay!_ he writes. _Finally!_

_Yay_ , Kurt writes back. _Just leaving my last class for the week!_

_Any plans for the weekend?_ Blaine asks.

Kurt texts back, _I was kind of gathering all my courage to ask you if maybe you wanted to meet up again._

Blaine can't hold back the laugh bubbling up inside. _I was going to ask you the same thing!_

They make plans for the next day, at a café they both know is almost halfway between their apartments.

**

Blaine sits across from Kurt at the small bistro table, feet carefully tucked under his chair, hands wrapped around his coffee mug. They both arrived almost half an hour early, eager to see each other again. It makes him feel giddy, almost – this wild sort of hope that what he's feeling is not completely one-sided.

It feels like a beginning. Of a beautiful friendship for sure, and maybe, maybe even more than that. The more he talks to Kurt, the more he wants to hope for that.

“My friend likes your friend, by the way,” Kurt says, grinning at him over the rim of his own coffee cup.

Blaine grins back. “She does?”

“Oh yeah, definitely.”

“Good, because Sam hasn't stopped talking about her for one minute since last Saturday.”

“So he likes her too.”

“I'm pretty sure he's already planning a beautiful spring wedding for the two of them.”

Kurt looks pleased, happy for his friend. “He's not at NYU with you, right? Mercedes said something about him being a model?”

Blaine shrugs. “Yeah. Lately he's been kind of into voice acting though.”

“Oh, cool!” Kurt sets down his cup. “That sounds interesting. Pretty awesome for a dream job.”

“It is pretty cool,” Blaine agrees. “But then, so is Broadway.”

Kurt's eyes widen. “Broadway?”

Blaine blushes, lowers his eyes. “I know it's silly. But – I've always just really wanted to.”

“Me too,” Kurt breathes. “I don't think it's silly at all!”

“You've never even heard me sing,” Blaine points out.

“Well, no, but you're in the musical theater program. You can't suck completely.”

Blaine laughs out loud, shaking his head at Kurt. “That's … actually very encouraging. You're right. I guess it's a step on the way, right?”

“It absolutely is,” Kurt agrees. “It's a big step!”

“There's just something about it,” Blaine tries to explain. “You know … musical theater in particular for me, but not even just that. Just … music. There's something about it. I've tried my whole life to put it into words, but I just don't know. It's … special. There's just _something_.”

“It's magic,” Kurt says quickly, then lowers his eyes, his face flushing darkly. “I mean – you know. Just -”

Blaine nods. “Magical. Yes. It kind of is. A real-world kind of magic.”

Kurt is silent for a long minute. “Yeah.”

“Is that what they're teaching you at that wizarding school of yours?” Blaine asks teasingly, propping his chin up on one hand. “Bewitching people with your voice?”

Kurt laughs, too quickly. “Uh. Yes. Sure. Absolutely. In fact, most of your favorite musicians are probably mages.”

“I knew it!” Blaine sighs, then leans forward conspiratorially. “I've always had my suspicions about some of them. I swear Roxy Music makes me time travel!”

“Time travel is magic?” Kurt rests his folded arms on the table, grins at him. “According to several movies my step-brother made me watch, it's supposed to be science.”

“Well...” Blaine bites his lip, thinks. “Their music creates the _illusion_ of time travel. Better?”

“Perfect.” Kurt chuckles. 

“And Broadway is just … magic. Pure magic.”

“I definitely agree,” Kurt says. “Hey, how about I get us some more coffee and then we can start a new debate about best Broadway musical of all time.”

Blaine tilts his head at him. “Have we settled the one about cheesecake versus cronuts yet?”

Kurt seems to think about it. “If you're ready to admit defeat and tell me I won, then yes.”

“Never!”

“Then I guess we're having two debates now.”

Blaine laughs. “I can live with that. And it's my turn to get us a refill.”

“Okay.” Kurt leans back in his chair, waves him on. “I'll get the next one. After all, we might be here a while.”

Blaine is absolutely okay with that.


	3. competition

Blaine kind of wants to ask Kurt out on a date, but he's just not entirely sure how to go about it. 

It's not that he doesn't have the opportunity. They keep texting each other, their conversation never really coming to a stop, and they meet for coffee again on Sunday and again on Tuesday.

Talking to him is easy. Surprisingly so. They just get along, seem to understand each other, never run out of things to talk about. 

He knows how to ask him to _hang_ out. He's just not sure how to ask him to _go_ out. With him. On an actual date. But what he is absolutely and one hundred percent sure of is that he _likes_ Kurt. Quite a lot. 

He's always either talking to him or talking about him, so much that Sam has started greeting him not with ' _hi_ ' or ' _how was your day_ ' but with ' _how's Kurt_ ' instead. Blaine doesn't care. He can't stop thinking about Kurt and he doesn't even want to. He hasn't met anyone he liked so much since he came to New York, and he likes the feeling.

On Tuesday Blaine's last class ends at four in the afternoon and Kurt's shift at the diner starts at six, so they meet right there to have coffee together.

Kurt meets him outside so they can walk in together and Blaine wants nothing more than to hug him hello, but he's not sure they have reached that stage of their friendship yet. He hasn't even managed to ask him out, after all. Maybe, he thinks, he should do that first. If he ever gathers the courage.

“Hey,” Kurt says, sounding cheerful, but Blaine can tell that something is a little off. He looks … distracted.

“Hi,” Blaine answers, smiles in delight as Kurt holds the door for him. “How was your Tuesday so far?”

Kurt shrugs, follows Blaine into the diner. “Okay. Yours?”

“We were out of coffee this morning so I had to go to class uncaffeinated,” Blaine reports. “Other than that it was pretty uneventful.”

Kurt gasps, does his best to look shocked through the amused sparkle in his eyes. Blaine feels good about almost making him laugh. “Oh, no! No coffee? You poor thing! Don't worry, we'll get you properly caffeinated in no time!”

“Yes, Please.” Blaine groans playfully, drops his bag under their usual table. “And that reminds me, it's my turn to buy. The usual for you?”

Kurt nods, and Blaine hurries off to the counter to spare Mercedes who's working right now the trip to their table.

Once they're both seated with drinks in front of them, Blaine lets his thoughts return to the problem at hand: asking out this incredibly cute guy he really, really likes without risking the friendship they have built in case he's been misinterpreting Kurt's smiles and all of their easy conversation.

He's still trying to figure out how to broach the subject when Kurt speaks up first.

“Maybe I'm going to get a slice of cheesecake after all. Can I get you anything too?”

Blaine looks up at him. “Cake? Uh, maybe. But don't get up, I'll go get it! Like I said. It's my turn to pay.”

Kurt laughs. “You don't have to, Blaine. I just have a craving, is all.”

Blaine tilts his head at Kurt, and there's just … something, in his eyes. He looks sad. “Is everything okay?” he asks.

Kurt sighs. “It's fine. I'm just a little tired.”

“You had the late shift last night.”

“Yeah. And then stage combat first thing this morning.” Kurt grins a little crookedly. “Not the best combination, apparently.”

“That sucks. I'm sorry,” Blaine offers. “We could have done coffee some other day if you'd wanted to take a nap instead.”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him in a way that Blaine is already learning to understand means _don't be silly_. “But I wanted to have coffee with you today! You know how your friend Sam showed up at Mercedes' gig last night?”

“Yeah?” Blaine raises an eyebrow at him.

“Who else would I gossip with about them? Something happened between them last night and Mercedes refuses to tell me about it, so I was hoping you'd be a little more forthcoming.” Kurt laughs.

Blaine laughs with him. “What makes you think I know anything about them?”

“Because I'm pretty sure that if Sam dragged you along on their first official date, he's told you all about what happened between them on their second one by now.”

Blaine nods. “I'm sure he would have, if I'd seen him since. Unfortunately I was asleep when he got in last night and I left this morning before he was awake.”

“Damn.” Kurt takes a slow sip if his coffee, setting his cup back down with a heavy sigh. “You are useless to me.”

“Hey!” Blaine pouts. “It's Sam's fault for refusing to get up at 6am with me. Blame Sam!”

“Oh, okay, I'll just do that.” Kurt exhales dramatically. “I'll have no choice but to simply live with being out of the loop, then.”

“I'm sorry.”

“Well -” Kurt draws patterns on the table top with his index finger, eyes only briefly flickering up to him with an almost shy smile on his face. “Maybe I was lying about only wanting to have coffee with you in order to get the best gossip.”

Blaine feels his heart speed up in his chest. “Oh really?”

“Yeah.” Kurt clears his throat, blushes. “Maybe I just wanted to see you.”

“Ha, um.” Blaine lowers his eyes to where he has both hands wrapped around his coffee mug and his smile is so big he can hardly get the words out. “Well, uh -”

“Is that okay?” Kurt asks, quietly.

Blaine hurries to nod, lifting his head to meet Kurt's eyes. “Yes! So okay. I wanted to see you too.”

“Good.” Kurt looks pleased. Still tired, but … happier. “And I do think I'm getting that cheesecake now. You want anything?”

Blaine thinks about it. “Cake sounds good, actually. I could go for chocolate.”

“Cake is always good,” Kurt agrees. “I've been craving it since this morning.”

“Are you sure everything is okay?” Blaine asks, because he's still a little worried.

“It's just -” Kurt waves a hand, trying to dismiss it. “School stuff. You know.”

“Classes?”

“Auditions,” Kurt says, hesitates.

“Do you … want to talk about it?” Blaine asks carefully. He doesn't want to pry. He just wants to help.

Kurt shakes his head. “It's stupid. It's just – A bunch of us are putting on _Rent_ for the winter musical and I _really_ want to play Mark. But – I'm not gonna get it.”

Blaine hesitates. “What makes you so sure about that?”

Kurt shrugs. “The competition is _insane_. And I'm auditioning this Thursday and I just don't feel prepared. At all. Even though I've been preparing all summer.” He lifts his shoulders again, shakes his head before letting them drop with a sigh. “It's silly to feel so stressed about this, I know. I'm only at the beginning of my second year and I should be used to this kind of stuff by now.”

“What kind of stuff?” Blaine asks, leaning forward a little to make sure Kurt knows he's listening.

“You know. Competition. It's the job we chose, right? Everyone competing against everyone else, all the time.”

Blaine shakes his head. “Maybe it's a little like that sometimes. But I don't think that's all there is to it. Do you?”

“It feels like it sometimes.”

“At school, yes it does.” Blaine pauses, thinks about how to put it into words what he wants to say. “But music is … it's more than competition. It's … togetherness. It doesn't work if everyone's just trying to be better than everyone else. It's about creating something together. Isn't it?”

Kurt's eyes are surprised for a moment, then a slow smile spreads across his face. “Yes,” he says. “Ideally, that's exactly what it should be.”

“It's what I love most about it.”

“Me too,” Kurt says. “It's just … so easy to lose track of that. Especially when you don't even have the chance to actually create something, you know? You still have to get cast first.”

“I know we're all always trying to steal the best parts from each other,” Blaine admits. “I've auditioned for so many different things.” He winces before his next words. “I used to audition for performance spots in theme parks.”

Kurt looks delighted at that. “Did you get any of them?”

“Yes,” he says. “A few. But me winning meant that others had to lose. And even once I was in, we all tried to get the best time slots and the most popular numbers.” He shrugs. “So yes, I know what you mean. And I think it can get pretty overwhelming and make us forget why we love doing this in the first place.”

“To create something beautiful,” Kurt says, and nods. “Yes. I agree.”

“And it's not silly to be stressed about the competition,” Blaine says. “It's not silly at all. It's your daily life. Mine too.”

“I just _really_ want this part,” Kurt admits. “I never got one in high school and last year I had no luck either and -” He shrugs. “I just really, _really_ want this one. I don't know. I love performing more than anything. It's just … a lot, sometimes.”

“It is,” Blaine says. “But hey, that's what friends are for, right? To buy you cake when it all gets too much.”

Kurt smiles. “I guess. Yeah. ”

“If you get it, I'll come to your opening night,” Blaine promises.

“Thank you!”

“And if you don't get it, you'll come over to my place instead of going to opening night, and we'll watch reality TV and eat way too much junk food and throw popcorn at the screen when people are being silly on TV?”

Kurt blushes and looks down at his hands that he has resting flat on the table top. He looks almost happy. “I'd like that,” he says, voice low.

_I like you_ Blaine wants to say, but bites the words back. Now is not the time for big emotional revelations, not while Kurt is stressed out about his audition. He doesn't want to add any more stress to his new friend's life. “And I think I've made up my mind about the cake,” he says instead. “Chocolate really does sound good.”

“It is very good,” Kurt confirms. “I'll get you a slice.”

“It's my turn to pay,” Blaine protests again.

Kurt raises an eyebrow at him that somehow makes Blaine unable to get up from his seat. “You already paid for the coffee, and I get an employee discount here, Blaine. I'll pay. There's no reason for you to pay full price for cake when you're here with me.”

“I like being friends with you,” Blaine says.

“And besides.” Kurt's grin turns wicked. “If you don't do as I say I'll turn your bow tie into a piece of cake and eat it. With my magical wizard powers. You know.”

Blaine pretends to be scared, holding up both hands at Kurt. “Oh my god! I forgot about those. Yes. You may pay for the cake today. Because I'm totally afraid of your magic powers and rather fond of this bow tie. But it's my turn next time.”

“Deal,” Kurt agrees, holds his eyes for a long moment before they both blush and look away.


	4. day

It's Friday and he's just closed the door of his apartment behind him after a long day when Blaine gets the call telling him that he's got a job at the Spotlight Diner if he wants it. He'd applied weeks ago and honestly given up hope by now that he was ever going to hear anything back, but apparently someone just quit and he's next in line.

“You said on your application that you play piano,” Gunther the manager tells him in a gruff voice.

“Yes, I do,”Blaine confirms.

“Good. We don't have one of those yet.”

“One of – you mean a piano player?”

“You can start tomorrow morning. 6am. Be here half an hour early so someone can show you around the back and give you a uniform.”

“Wait – tomorrow morning?” Blaine asks, glancing at the clock on the DVD player. It's after nine. Friday night. That's not a lot of time until his first shift starts. He carefully sits down at the edge of his crappy old couch. “That's, um, soon.”

“You want the job or not?” Gunther barks. “Because I have a list with seventeen other names here that I can call.”

“No, I didn't mean – no,” Blaine hurries to say. “I want the job. I'll be there! No problem at all!”

“Okay. Good. Play some piano for the guests. When it's quiet. Don't forget to serve your tables in between. I'm off tomorrow but Santana will be there. She will explain the rest. Good night.”

“Wait, wait,” Blaine says, a little panicked. “How long is my shift? And, like – I'd just like to know -”

“Until noon,” Gunther tells him. “Good night now.”

“Yeah, thanks, and, uh, good night to you t-” The line goes dead and Blaine lowers his phone into his lap, blinks, shakes his head, blinks again. “Okay,” he says out loud. “Okay. Good.”

“What was that?” Sam asks, sticking his head out of his bedroom door, a curious expression on his face.

“I – guess I just got a job,” Blaine says, still processing the phone call.

“Dude, that's awesome!” Sam steps out of his room and walks over to him, a comic book dangling from one hand, the other one raised for a celebratory high five.

Blaine raises his own hand in response, let's Sam slap their palms together, shakes his head again as his thoughts slowly begin to settle. “Yeah, it's awesome,” he says carefully. “It's also a little unexpected. They want me to start at six tomorrow.”

“Late shift?” Sam asks. “That's not so bad, I'm sure that you can -”

“No,” Blaine interrupts. “Six in the _morning_.”

“Oh.” Sam glances at the time on the DVD player. “That's in less than nine hours.”

“Yeah. And I have to be there even earlier. And I kind of had plans for tonight.”

“With Kurt?”

“No,” Blaine admits. “Just me and my guitar.” He shrugs. “Kurt's working early tomorrow. Well, I guess at least that means I'll be working my first shift with him.”

“Maybe you can finally ask him out then,” Sam says, laughs as he slaps Blaine's shoulder affectionately. “Sing him something. There has to be some perk to being a singing waiter.”

“I'm not going to ask him out in front of a diner full of onlookers,” Blaine says. “Anyway. Have you eaten yet? Because I've been stuck in voice class until half an hour ago and I'm _starving_.”

“Already ordered pizza,” Sam says. “It should be here literally any minute now.”

The knock on the door sounds through their tiny apartment before Blaine can respond.

“You're the best roommate ever,” he says gratefully.

“I know,” Sam says, already on his way to the door. “Put in a DVD. I'll get the food.”

**

Blaine's early as requested on Saturday morning. He's nervous, he can't deny it – it's his first job since he came to New York, but he's not living in the dorms anymore and New York is expensive. He needs the extra money. And he's glad that this worked out, even if his new boss seems a little … brusque. But Blaine's been coming here almost daily during his freshman year and most employees had been here the entire time, and hadn't looked extremely unhappy working here. He thinks that's definitely a point in favor of this diner.

Also, now it has the added bonus of being Kurt's work place too. It's been two weeks since they met and Blaine is happy for every extra second he gets to spend with him. He's still determined to ask him out eventually. Just not this morning. Right now, all he wants is to get through his shift.

Santana's already there when he enters the diner, sitting in a booth near the counter and typing something into her phone. There's one guy sitting in a far corner apparently fast asleep, and one girl with green hair who looks like she's been up all night, cradling her hands around a cup of something steaming hot in front of her.

“Hi,” Blaine says hesitantly. He knows Santana from the many times he's ordered his coffee from her, and she's okay, if maybe a little sharp-tongued sometimes.

She looks up at him, nods. “Good morning. New guy?”

“Blaine,” he says.

“Right. Follow me.” She gets up and walks off to disappear through a door behind the counter without further explanation. Blaine almost trips over his own feet trying to keep up. “Have you ever been a waiter before?” she asks, as soon as Blaine stumbles after her into the tiny room in the back.

He shakes his head. “No, I -”

“Well, you'll learn soon enough. It's not rocket science. But that doesn't mean you don't have to pay attention. Okay?” She opens a closet, grabs a shirt and apron for him and tosses both in the general direction of his head. He catches the bundle before it can smack him in the face. “You certainly need better nerves than you'd need for actual rocket science. Get changed.”

He clears his throat. “Where can I -”

“No need to be shy, I don't swing that way anyway. Off with your shirt!” Santana cuts him off.

“I -” Blaine says, and is interrupted by the sound of footsteps behind them.

“Santana, stop intimidating our new coworker,” a familiar voice says, and Blaine spins around, spirits rising as he looks into Kurt's friendly face.

“Hi!”

“Hi Blaine,” Kurt answers softly. “Everything okay?”

“Oh, yeah.” Blaine laughs. “Just – a little overwhelmed. I only learned last night that I was starting here this morning.”

“You can change in the employee restroom,” Kurt tells him. “Come on. I'll show you!”

Santana pats his back as she squeezes past him to get back to the door. “I'll leave you in the very capable hands of someone who's only been on the job for two minutes himself,” she says. “What do I care. Just – don't burn the place down. I need my tip money and this job has better hours than the cage dancing.”

Blaine stares after her for a moment, not quite sure what to make of her, until Kurt puts a tentative hand on his shoulder. “Blaine?” he asks.

He turns his head to meet Kurt's eyes, smiles at him. “Sorry. I'm fine. Just – nerves, you know.” He forces out a laugh. “I'm – new to this.”

“You'll be fine,” Kurt promises him. “And hey, you kept me company during my first day on the job. Now I can return the favor!”

“I feel clumsy today,” Blaine says. “What do I do if I drop something? Can I get fired for dropping a tray full of food?”

Kurt shakes his head. “I think only if you drop it on a customer.”

“Oh good,” Blaine says. “I'll try not to do that, then.”

**

Kurt waits for him as Blaine disappears into the restroom to change into his uniform. He then shows him where to store his clothes for the duration of his shift and introduces him to the small kitchen staff, and then Santana does take over, explaining the basic rules of the job to him which basically seem to be 'don't mess up your orders and don't spill coffee on customers, not even on the annoying ones.'

“What about the singing?” Blaine asks. “Gunther said something about wanting me to play piano yesterday?”

“You'll play when someone requests something. Or, when things are not completely insane in here, we all take turns entertaining the customers,” Santana informs him. “But depending on who you're working with, you have to be quick to get to the stage first.”

Blaine glances at Kurt, realizes he has never actually heard him sing. “Okay,” he says.

The morning gets busy soon enough. Santana leaves at eight and a girl named Dani takes over from her, and just a minute later Mercedes shows up as well.

Blaine mostly tries to stay as close to Kurt as possible, partly because Kurt is extremely helpful with calming his nerves, and also because, well, it's _Kurt_ and Blaine likes being close to him. Still, a lot of the time he's doing little more than running around frantically trying to get every order to the correct table without causing any major accidents.

It works well, for the most time. He only messes up an order twice, and Kurt assures him it's no big deal. “Even Santana gets things wrong sometimes,” he tells him. “And she's been here almost a year now.”

There's finally a lull a few hours in and Blaine is surprised when he checks the time. “How is it already ten-thirty?” he asks Kurt who's leaning next to him against the counter.

“Not long until noon,” Kurt says, bumping their shoulders together.

“I'm actually getting hungry,” Blaine admits.

“We could get lunch once we get out of here,” Kurt suggests. “Uh, I mean … unless you have, um. Plans.”

“No, no plans.” Blaine beams at him. “I'd love to go get lunch!”

Kurt looks very pleased, bumps their shoulders together. “Good. And hey, the stage is empty.” He nods toward the stage where Dani is finally hopping down the steps after her ten-minute guitar medley that had Blaine tapping his foot along all the way through. “You should make your debut!”

“Oh, no!” Blaine protests. “You have seniority! It's your turn.”

“I'm okay,” Kurt assures him. “And I haven't heard you sing yet.”

“But I haven't heard you either,” Blaine points out.

“Plenty of time for that,” Kurt insists.

“How about -” Blaine nudges Kurt back with his shoulder. “You go first, and I follow?”

Kurt hesitates a moment, then smiles shyly, gives him the smallest nod. “Okay. Fine.”

“Yay!” Blaine exclaims quietly. Giving Kurt a gentle shove between the shoulder blades. “Next time, we'll do a duet!”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him, but he's smiling.

**

Kurt begins to sing and Blaine forgets his tables, almost forgets how to breathe, forgets to pay attention to anything other than his friend up on that stage.

Kurt's standing there, quite still, in his dark uniform with the red apron, a far away look in his eyes, and he's singing.

_Blackbird_ has always been one of Blaine's favorites, but he's never heard it quite like this before. There's … something about Kurt's voice. He can't find a word for it. Maybe there isn't one. But it touches something deep inside of him.

There's an intensity to Kurt's voice that shakes him, and yet he can't quite ignore the feeling that Kurt's … holding back, somehow. He can't even imagine what he'll sound like when he really goes all out.

He finds himself turning away to discreetly wipe some tears from the corners of his eyes. He almost doesn't want to go on next. He wants to hold on to Kurt's voice, keep it close to his heart a little longer before layering new sounds over it. It's probably silly. But he feels a bit like he's flying, even after Kurt finishes the song – for a moment, the silence in the diner seems almost complete as if everyone in the room is holding their breath for just a few seconds before the hum and bustle starts up again.

“Your turn,” Kurt speaks up next to him.

Blaine breathes out a laugh, looks up at Kurt. “You're incredible.”

Kurt blushes darkly. “I – Thank you.”

“I mean it.”

Kurt grins down at the floor but he looks happy. Blaine gently touches his arm before walking off toward the stage. He feels overwhelmed with affection for him. Maybe channeling it into some music will help.

He sits down at the piano and sings _Teenage Dream_ because he's been working on his own arrangement and because he feels like it.

He's happy to notice that Kurt doesn't take his eyes off him for a second during the entire length of the song.

**

They decide to just have lunch right there at the Spotlight Diner once they clock out at noon. It's cheaper with their employee discounts than going somewhere else. Blaine goes to the employee restroom to change back into his street clothes, carefully packs his uniform away while Kurt changes his shirt as well – he says he has to go straight to the library from lunch and he doesn't want to smell of coffee and pizza all day.

“I have to go look for sheet music because I have to prepare a project for my voice class,” he groans once they're seated in a booth, sandwiches in front of them. “All I really want to do is put my feet up.”

Blaine can relate to that – his own feet are hurting quite a bit after his shift. He supposes he'll get used to it eventually. “What are you looking for?” he asks. “Any ideas?”

Kurt shrugs. “I'm supposed to do something that's 'unusual' for me. I guess that means no Broadway for once. Not that I'm in the mood for that anyway after the cast list for _Rent_ went up yesterday...”

“Oh no.” Blaine leans forward, heart sinking. “You didn't get the part -?”

“It's what I expected.” Kurt dismisses it with a wave of his hand.

“I'm sorry. You're amazing. You deserved it.”

“Maybe next time,” Kurt says, shrugs. “For now, I need to find a new song.”

Blaine hesitates. “I have kind of a really big collection of Top Forty stuff. If – you wanted to have a look.”

Kurt seems to think about it. “Are you sure?”

“Of course,” Blaine assures him quickly. “You can borrow whatever you want. Not a problem.”

“I wouldn't mind not having to spend my afternoon at the NYADA library.”

“I have coffee at home,” Blaine tells him. “And you can sit on my couch and put your feet up while you browse through my collection.”

Kurt chuckles. “Can I take my shoes off too?”

“You can even take your socks off if you want to,” Blaine promises. “And if we're lucky the bakery down the block will still have those chocolate eclairs that are simply to die for.”

“That sounds incredibly tempting.” Kurt sighs.

Blaine finishes the last bite of sandwich, pushes his chair back, and holds out a hand for him. “Well, come on then! Let's go!”

Kurt rolls his eyes at him, but accepts the hand. He goes to hug Mercedes goodbye and then they're on their way.

He tells Blaine stories about his vocal coach as they make their way to the subway and Blaine can't stop looking at him, heart beating happily in his chest. If things continue going so well, he might actually be brave enough to ask what he wants to ask sometime soon. Very soon.

**

Sam isn't home when they get in; he works afternoons and evenings most Saturdays. Blaine puts their eclairs (that Kurt insisted on paying for) on the coffee table and puts on a fresh pot of coffee.

They sit across from each other on Blaine's old couch, cross-legged and leaning back against the armrests, once Blaine has retrieved the large pile of sheet music from his shelf to hand to Kurt.

Kurt's flipping through the pages, one eyebrow raised. “Blaine, this isn't a 'large collection.' This is every song ever written.”

Blaine snorts. “I might have a slight – um, obsession.”

“Apparently.”

“But I meant it. You can borrow whatever you want. As much as you want.”

Kurt tilts his head, reading through a few more titles. “I might have to borrow quite a lot of this. You have excellent taste in music!”

“Thank you.”

“No, really. I don't even know how to start narrowing it down,” Kurt says. “I want to sing all of those.”

“Well, I've heard your voice now,” Blaine says, grinning, holding out his hands. “Kindly hand me the pile. I'll pick out what I want to hear you sing!”

“You know you won't be there when I sing this for my vocal coach, right?”

“Maybe not, but I'll be there when you sing it for me right here this afternoon so I can decide if it's a good fit for you.”

Kurt throws his head back in a delighted laugh. “Is your TV broken? Did you only bring me here for free entertainment?”

“Yes,” Blaine says, and Kurt slides one foot across the couch cushions to lightly kick Blaine in the shin.

**

By six-thirty that evening they're sitting on the floor next to each other surrounded by little piles of sheet music, engaged in a lively discussion about who would take which parts if they were to turn Pink's _Perfect_ into a duet.

“I mean, really, the only way to settle this is to sing it,” Blaine insists.

Kurt stretches his arms above his head, yawns openly. “Maybe. But not today. I'm tired. And _hungry_. Why am I so hungry?”

“Because it's late,” Blaine says, almost surprised when he realizes they have spent the entire day together. More than twelve uninterrupted hours. And even after all this time, he still only wants … more. More time with Kurt. He's not ready to say goodnight.

“I want fries,” Kurt says, almost absentmindedly. “Something greasy. I always get hungry for greasy things on the days I have to get up before five.”

“There's a little place a few blocks from here,” Blaine says. “Want to go there?”

Kurt thinks for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “That sounds perfect.”

“We could, um,” Blaine starts, pauses. “I mean, I don't know if you have pans tonight or … you probably want to get home, but – we could get it to go and come back here and pop in a movie?”

Kurt smiles lazily. “I can't promise that I won't fall asleep.”

“That's okay,” Blaine tells him. “I might actually fall asleep first.”

“Then let's do this,” Kurt says and scrambles to his feet, holding out a hand to help Blaine up.

An entire day, Blaine thinks. An entire day together, and still there's more to look forward to. It's a good thought.


	5. escape

Blaine wakes up early on Sunday morning, too early considering how late it was before he went to bed and that he'd been up since before five on Saturday.

He stretches until he feels his joints pop, yawns widely. He still feels almost pleasantly exhausted, morning-lazy and warm and comfortable under the covers.

Kurt stayed late last night. They watched some TV and then just talked for hours. Blaine offered him the couch when they finally noticed how late it was, so he didn't have to make his way home through the night all by himself. But Kurt insisted he didn't mind, put on his shoes, a thoughtful and far-away expression on his face while Blaine watched. He'd wanted to hug him goodbye, but hadn't known if it was okay. They'll work up to it, he's sure of it.

He grabs his phone off the nightstand, mostly to check the time, and sees a new text from Kurt.

_Got home okay. Thanks again for the music!_

Blaine smiles, texts back, _Any time._ He hesitates just a moment, then decides: to hell with it. He doesn't want to seem needy, but it's Sunday and he has no plans and he knows Kurt doesn't have another shift at the diner before Tuesday. He types: _Hey, what are you doing today?_

The text sent, he gets out of bed, shuffles off toward the shower. Kurt's probably still asleep since he got to bed even later than Blaine did. And he's not going to sit by his phone and wait for a reply like the smitten idiot that he is. Because that would be insane.

Sam's still asleep too since he worked all night (he's mostly waiting tables these days at a little all-night diner a few blocks away), so Blaine settles in front of the TV with his bowl of cereal and a cup of coffee, volume turned low, his phone resting on one thigh as he watches the news.

It's just after ten when his phone buzzes softly, and he puts his almost empty bowl down on the coffee table, unlocks the screen.

_Good morning_ , Kurt has written to him. _Not doing anything today. You?_

_I was just gonna watch TV and do nothing_ , Blaine texts back. _Unless you have a better idea?_

A few minutes pass before he gets a reply, and he gets more nervous with each passing second. Was that too forward? Too flirty?

_Can we meet?_ Kurt finally responds, and Blaine just stares down at the text for a minute, biting his bottom lip absentmindedly. Somehow, those words don't do a lot to make him feel more confident. It's not quite 'we need to talk,' but … the way it's worded, it sounds weirdly _not good._

_Of course_ , he texts back. _Is everything okay?_

_Everything's fine_ , Kurt texts. _Do you know Callbacks?_

Blaine thinks quickly. He's wanted to go there once with Sam because they'd heard it was supposed to be a musical theater hangout, but once they found it it was closed for the day and they'd headed off to their usual bar closer to home instead. But he thinks he does remember the way.

_I know where it is_ , Blaine writes. He's not sure what to make of this – does Kurt want to go to a bar in the middle of the day? Or does he not want to meet before tonight?

_There's a place nearby we can go_ , Kurt texts. _Just asking because I thought we could meet there and walk together, it's a little hard to find. If that's okay?_

Blaine only hesitates for a second. He's not quite sure what's going on, but he trusts Kurt. And he wants to see him. _Sure_ , he tells him. _Around noon?_

_Yes. Perfect :)_ , Kurt writes back, and Blaine puts down his phone to go and change out of his pajamas.

**

Kurt's already waiting right outside the door of Callbacks by the time Blaine gets there. He looks tired. Beautiful as always, perfectly dressed and his hair carefully styled, but Blaine can see it in his face. He looks … almost worried.

“Hi,” he says.

“Hey Blaine,” Kurt says, and smiles at him. He does look happy to see him. It calms Blaine's nerves a little – he's still unsure about the text from earlier, but at least it seems Kurt hasn't asked him here to tell him he never wants to see him again.

“So.” Blaine smiles back. “Where are we going?”

Kurt waves a hand down the street. “There's a small park a few blocks from here. It's hard to find, that's why I wanted to meet here. But it's beautiful, so…”

“That sounds good,” Blaine says.

“I mean – I'm sorry, I should have asked – if you'd rather go get coffee somewhere – or we could go for lunch -”

“Maybe later,” Blaine says. “I'd like to go see this park, actually.”

Kurt nods, and they start walking next to each other. “I found it my first week here,” Kurt says. “I just felt like going there today. I hope that's okay.”

Blaine hums his approval. “I like finding new places in this city that don't have their own chapter in every travel guide.”

“This place definitely doesn't have a chapter anywhere,” Kurt says, leads him around a corner into a smaller street lined with low, small houses, so small that they look almost misplaced in this city.

“How did you find it?” Blaine wants to know.

“I got lost. A lucky accident, I guess.”

They walk another ten minutes mostly in silence before Kurt leads him around another corner, around another block of two-story houses, and suddenly there's green: a beautiful little park that stretches out in front of them, a path winding between tall oak trees, a few rather battered-looking benches scattered across the length of it. It looks – cozy. Nice. Blaine loves it immediately.

“No one's here,” he says.

Kurt nods. “I come here a lot, to think or to read, sometimes just to sing to myself. Kids play here sometimes and I've seen the occasional couple spread out a picnic blanket under one of the trees, but mostly it's a really good place to just be by yourself, completely undisturbed.”

Blaine walks a few steps down the path, breathes in the smell of damp earth and grass, smiles. “Thanks for bringing me here.”

“It's sort of … my escape,” Kurt explains, smiles back, then heads for a bench a little further down the path, waits for Blaine to follow him. “You know. For when it all gets too much.”

“It's a good thing to have a place like that,” Blaine agrees. “I usually just hide away in my bedroom, but it's not the same.”

“No,” Kurt agrees. “Sometimes you just have to … get out.”

“Escape,” Blaine repeats.

“Exactly. Yes. It's good to escape sometimes. Even just for an hour.” Kurt sits down on the bench, stares down at his hands, fingers curling and uncurling over his thighs.

Blaine takes a seat next to him, leaving enough space to not crowd him. “What are you escaping from today?”

Kurt lets out a humorless little laugh, clears his throat. “Oh god,” he says. “I don't – That's a good question. But I did have a reason for wanting to come here with you today, if I'm being honest. You know. To have a quiet place, to, um. Talk.”

Blaine feels his heart sink. “That sounds serious.”

“It's nothing bad,” Kurt says quickly. “At least – not really. I just … I don't know. I don't know.”

“Kurt -” Blaine pauses, unsure what to do. Something is wrong. He just doesn't know what it is. He doesn't understand. “Is everything okay?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, and sounds very certain about it. “Everything is fine. Everything is perfect, in fact. I'm just afraid that … I'll ruin it, with what I have to tell you. But you deserve to know.”

Blaine blinks, pauses. “You can talk to me,” he says.

Kurt nods. “I just -” He sighs heavily. “God this is difficult, I – First of all I want you to know – I showed you this place today because I really like you, Blaine. I hope you know that. I … I really like you, and I was hoping … that -” He breaks off, waves a hand helplessly. “I wanted to ask you out. You know. On a real date. But I can't do that without being honest with you first. Even if it ruins everything.”

“Are you a wanted criminal?” Blaine blurts out before he can stop himself.

Kurt's head snaps up. “What?”

“Sorry, just -” Blaine shrugs. “You sound so serious. And just – if it helps …” He lifts his shoulders again, helplessly. “I really like you too, Kurt.”

“You do?”

He nods. “I've been trying to gather the courage to ask you out for two weeks.”

“Okay.” Kurt takes a deep breath, nods to himself, still staring down at his hands. “Okay. It's just – there's something you don't know about me, and I think that you should. I _need_ you to know before, before -” He breaks off, swallows heavily.

“It's okay,” Blaine says, hopes that it really is, feeling more than a little apprehensive by now, imagination running wild with what Kurt could possibly have to tell him that's making him so nervous.

Kurt lifts his head, meets his eyes, and he looks completely serious. “Your friend Sam – what he said about my school. About – _me_. All that stuff about … magic.”

Blaine nods. “What about it?”

Kurt exhales, doesn't look away from Blaine's face. “It's kind of … all true.”

Blaine looks back at him, opens his mouth, closes it again. “Uh,” he says. “Excuse me?”

“Not just kind of, actually. It _is_ true,” Kurt repeats, quietly. “I'm a … well, I guess the most commonly used term would be _wizard_.”

“You're a -” Blaine swallows. He doesn't understand. Kurt looks deadly serious and a little worried, and he _doesn't understand_. Is this supposed to be a joke and he's just not getting it? Is he supposed to be laughing? Or is Kurt – does Kurt believe what he's saying? Is this some kind of delusion he's caught in? Is he – should Blaine get help? Should he call someone? Is he completely overreacting? 

It's just that Kurt … looks _so serious_. “You're a – wizard.”

“Well. A mage,” Kurt says. “To be correct. We call ourselves mages.”

“Okay...”

“I know this is … hard to believe, but -”

“I'm not quite sure what you want me to say,” Blaine admits. “I mean, is this – are you -” he swallows, doesn't have a clue what to do next. “Are you making fun of me? Is this – is this a joke?”

Kurt sighs, stretches out his right hand, spreads his fingers, and a bright ball of light appears hovering just over his palm, like a cloud, swirling and flickering and dancing over Kurt's outstretched hand.

Blaine stares, doesn't know what he's feeling, stuck somewhere between scared to death and absolutely fascinated. It's kind of – pretty, actually, if he ignores the fact that it's a bright cloudy ball of light hovering over someone's palm. “What -” he manages.

Kurt hums a low note and the ball of light expands, swirls faster, then pops and disappears. “There,” Kurt says, voice quiet, almost apologetic.

“You -” His voice sounds raspy, rough even to his own ears. He opens and closes his mouth, can't find the words. “You're a … mage, and you – make light thingies?”

“That was a, um, demonstration,” Kurt says. “I can do other things. I just – I wanted you to see – I'm not crazy.”

“But it's impossible,” Blaine says.

“You just saw that it's not,” Kurt says.

“It's a trick,” he insists. “How did you – Why are you doing this, don't you – If you wanted to get rid of me you could have told me to stop texting you, you don't need to convince me you're crazy or whatever you're trying to -”

“Blaine,” Kurt cuts him off, bends down to pick up a small rock that's resting next to Blaine's foot on the ground, holds it out on his palm.

“What -” Blaine says, breaks off when the small, smooth gray pebble, rises up a bit, flips over, and turns into a light blue paper clip right before his eyes before sinking back into Kurt's palm.

“See?” Kurt asks.

Blaine lets out a shaky breath, counts to five as he inhales slowly. He holds his breath for a beat, exhales. Draws in another long breath. The paper clip is still sitting there on Kurt's palm. “I -”

“I'm not crazy,” Kurt promises. “Neither are you. This is real.”

Blaine shakes his head, thoughts swirling, and he just … _doesn't understand_. “May I?” he asks, carefully stretching out a hand towards the small object in Kurt's hand.

“Of course.”

He lowers his hand slowly, not sure he wants to, but also just so _curious_ … His fingertips touch the smooth metal of the paper clip and he gasps out loud, picks it up with delicate fingers, holds it up higher to inspect it carefully. “Oh,” he breathes.

Kurt laughs a little breathlessly. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I know it's – a lot.”

“Yeah,” Blaine confirms. “It's – You're magic? Like – _actually_ magic. You can do spells and stuff.”

Kurt nods. “Yes.”

“...Why are you telling me?” Blaine wants to know. “I mean – if this is … true, isn't it, I don't know, dangerous for you, to tell people?”

Kurt tilts his head at him. “Why would it be?”

“I could … Not that I'm going to, but I could – expose you. Like. To the world. I could tell people.”

“And then what?” Kurt asks. “Blaine, you're sitting right here next to me, holding a paper clip that I just magically made out of a rock, and you still barely believe me. Magic has … it has a way of keeping itself secret, you know? It's like … if you don't want to see it, you can't. And most people don't want to. It doesn't fit with what they think they know of the world. So, go ahead. Tell everyone if you want to. They'll think you're joking, or that you're crazy, or they'll just forget what you said. That's just the way it is.”

“Am I going to forget this?” Blaine wants to know, closing his fist around the paper clip.

Kurt shakes his head. “You might yet make up your mind that I'm insane, though.”

“You're not insane,” Blaine says, even though, truth be told, even with the physical evidence tightly clasped in his hand, he still isn't sure of that.

“I needed to tell you,” Kurt says, “because I _really_ like you. So much. And – I didn't want there to be any secrets like this between us. Before we take this any further. You know?”

“I guess I can understand that,” Blaine says.

“Just to be clear,” Kurt continues. “I still really, really want to ask you out on a date. I want that more than anything. But I didn't want either of us to get in too deep and then have this fall apart when you found out about me months down the road. I saw my friends go through this countless times and I just – I wanted you to know. I wanted to be honest.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says, because he doesn't know what else to say. “Wait – you said – Oh my god. NYADA is actually a school for witches – um, _mages_ , I mean?”

Kurt laughs, just a tentative small laugh. “It is. Yes.”

Blaine chuckles. “Can I tell Sam? Please? He'll be so happy to learn he was right all along.”

“Sure.” Kurt's eyes are hopeful. “Like I said. There's really no harm in it. It's not a secret. It just makes people think you're weird.”

“For the record,” Blaine says, “I don't think you're weird. I just -” he sighs. “Can I have some time? To, you know, process all of this?”

Kurt shrugs. “Of course. You can have all the time you need.”

“Thank you.”

“Thank _you_ ,” Kurt says. “For … believing me.”

“Can I keep this?” Blaine asks, holding up the little blue paper clip.

“Yeah, take it.” Kurt nods, looking relieved. “It's yours.”

“Thanks.” He gets up, and he doesn't feel good about leaving, but his head is swimming. He needs some peace and quiet to think about all of this. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I know we said we'd do lunch, but I think I have to do some escaping of my own right now.”

“I understand,” Kurt says, voice carefully even.

“I promise I'll text you,” Blaine hurries to say. “I'm not disappearing. It's just – a lot.”

“I know,” Kurt says. “Seriously. Don't worry about it.”

“I don't want you to think I've changed my mind. About liking you. I haven't.”

“Thank you,” Kurt says quietly, his smile small and shy, but Blaine can see the relief in his eyes. “I expected you to run away screaming when I told you. That's what happened every time so far. But you stayed. _Thank you_.”

Blaine doesn't know if it's the best idea, but he hugs Kurt before he leaves. Tightly. He doesn't understand any of this, not really, but … time will help. He has some stuff to think about. So that's what he'll do. It's what Kurt deserves, and it's what he needs. Maybe after a cup of coffee and some lunch and a chat with his roommate, things will be looking a bit clearer. He hopes so.


	6. fan

Sam's awake when Blaine gets back home, greeting him with sleepy eyes over the back of the couch, his hair a mess and a cup of something steaming clutched to his chest. Coffee, from the heavy smell hanging over the apartment.

“How's Kurt?” he asks, his standard greeting after Blaine's been talking about nothing but him for days.

“You don't even look tired anymore,” Blaine says in lieu of a greeting. “You look _asleep_.”

“Worked until seven this morning,” Sam says, yawns widely. “It was insane.”

“You work too much.”

“Hmm. So how is Kurt?” Sam grins at him. “Were you out all night?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No. I only met up with him just now. He, um. We wanted to have lunch, but, uh.”

Sam tilts his head at him. “Everything okay?”

Blaine nods, pauses, sighs. “No, actually. Or maybe yes. I … I honestly can't tell anymore.” He walks over to the couch, shoves Sam's legs off the cushions to drop down into the seat next to him.

“Did he break up with you?”

Blaine huffs out a breath. “We're not even together.”

“You really don't look so good,” Sam says, sounding worried. “What's going on?”

Blaine lifts his shoulders in a helpless shrug, and really, he's too confused, too worn out from the chaotic mess of his thoughts, to beat around the bush. “Apparently Kurt is a wizard. A _mage_ ,” he quickly corrects himself. “With real magic. It's all real. Spells and everything. _Magic_. He -” Blaine shrugs again, not sure what else to say. This is _insane_. He's starting to worry about himself. How is he believing all of this? It's _impossible_. He's starting to worry that maybe he's the one who's delusional. Maybe he should be getting help.

“Yeah. I know,” Sam says evenly, like it's not a big deal at all, takes a slow sip of his coffee.

Blaine blinks at him. “Uh. - What?”

“I know,” Sam repeats. “Why do you look so pale? Are you honestly just – oh my god, you really didn't _know_?”

“I -” Blaine blinks again, clears his throat, shakes his head. “How could I have known? Are you telling me that you _knew_?”

Sam shrugs. “Of course I knew. Dude, I _told_ you, like, _weeks_ ago. Remember?”

“I thought you were -” _joking. Crazy_. The words flash in his mind, and he quickly clamps his mouth shut to stop them from escaping. What did Kurt say? _Go ahead. Tell everyone if you want to. They’ll think you’re joking, or that you’re crazy, or they’ll just forget what you said. That’s just the way it is._ He swallows. “Oh my god. You _did_ tell me.”

Sam rolls his eyes at him. “You thought I was kidding.”

“...Yeah.” Suddenly, Blaine feels ashamed of himself, doesn't quite understand why. How _could_ he have believed Sam? He still isn't sure. He wants to be. He wants to believe this. He wants to believe _Kurt_. It's just – it's _insane_. 

Isn't it?

“Did he do magic for you?” Sam asks.

Blaine laughs, opens his fist that's still clutched tightly around the blue paper clip. He hasn't managed to let go of it yet. “He made this for me,” he says. “Out of a pebble.”

Sam grins at him. “How romantic.”

“Shut up. It was just because – well, because I didn't believe him.”

“Do you believe it now?” Sam asks.

Blaine hesitates. He wants to so _badly_. But his head is so full of chaos right now, he just doesn't know anymore. It makes no sense. Nothing makes sense. There are certain rules the worlds works by, the laws of nature, an order to things that keeps the universe together and _this_ defies everything he's been taught his entire life. It's not possible.

He'd expected things to become clearer the more he removed himself from the situation. Time, space, a chance to think about all of this on his way home – he'd expected his mind to break free from the possibility of all of this, to offer up an explanation. One that he could accept without rearranging his entire knowledge of the world he's living in. Instead, the more he lets it sink in, the more he starts to think that, well, maybe it is real after all. He _saw_ it. He saw proof. He's holding proof in his hand.

Maybe … the world is bigger than he thought it was. Maybe, just maybe, it's _possible_.

It's like the tiniest spark deep inside of him, growing with every passing minute into something bigger, fanned on by the memory of what he saw, by his best friend's unshakable certainty that it's the truth.

“I – I'm confused,” Blaine admits. “I just – feel so lost right now.”

“Why?” Sam puts his empty cup down on the coffee table. “You _saw_ that it's real. What's not to believe?”

Blaine looks at Sam, at the open, questioning look on his face, feels it fanning the tiny spark inside of him a little bigger, a little brighter.

“Why is it so easy for you to believe all of this?” he wants to know. “And why is it so hard for me?”

Sam laughs. “I never thought it wasn't real in the first place.”

“I _did_ ,” Blaine says, stares down at his paper clip. “It just – it changes everything. If it's true. The whole world. Everything I thought I knew – It's a lot, you know?”

Sam frowns. “It doesn't change _everything_. There's just _more_ of it. I guess. Are you really upset about this or are you just still in shock? Do you want me to bring you some water?”

Blaine laughs. “I'm okay. Thanks. Just trying to wrap my head around this.”

Sam sits up straight, pushes his hair out of his eyes. “I'm hungry. Do you want a grilled cheese? I can make more while I'm at it anyway.”

“Thank you, yes,” Blaine says, sighs. “I'll snap out of this, I promise. I'm just -” He waves a hand helplessly, sighs again.

Sam bumps their shoulders together, his grin widening. “Dude, you're a _Star Wars_ fan.”

“So?”

“So, listen to Master Yoda. ' _You must unlearn what you have learned_ ,'” Sam says in his best Yoda voice, and Blaine laughs.

“You know what? That actually helps.”

“Good,” Sam tells him. “Hey, this is awesome, now we're both dating mages!”

“Mercedes too?” Blaine asks.

Sam nods, pushing himself up off the couch and walking around it in the direction of their tiny kitchen. “She's amazing. She and Kurt went to the same high school, actually.”

“Cool.” Blaine twists around to call after him over the back of the couch. “Hey! By the way! NYADA is totally a magic college! Kurt told me. You were right about that all along!”

Sam winks at him. “Told you!”

Blaine laughs, and lets himself fall back into the couch cushions.

**

He has lunch with Sam, thinks about working on some of his assignments. He knows he should, but he also knows he couldn't focus on them anyway. His thoughts keep circling back to the same thing over and over again and, well, he does have a very good reason for being distracted, after all.

Sam has a date with Mercedes that night so just after five he gets ready to go, squeezes Blaine's shoulder before he leaves, gives him a long look. “You okay?”

Blaine looks up at him from his seat on the couch he's barely moved from all day, does his best to smile. “Yeah. Fine.”

“You should call Kurt,” Sam says. “He'll be freaking out by now thinking you want nothing more to do with him.” He smiles encouragingly, let's the door fall shut behind himself.

Blaine jerks upright, stares after him, heart hammering in his chest like Sam's words shocked him awake out of this weird stupor he's been stuck in all day.

_Kurt._

How has he been sitting here all day completely apathetic, staring holes in the walls lost in his own head, without even thinking about how Kurt must be feeling about all of this?

He feels bad. His eyes fall on the paper clip he's set down on the book he'd left on the coffee table earlier. He has _proof_. 

No, he has more than that. He saw it with his own eyes. Sam knows it's true. Kurt showed him that it's true.

Why is he sitting here?

He snatches the paper clip off the book, carries it into his room where he safely deposits it in his nightstand drawer so he won't lose it. Then he hurries to put on his shoes, straightens his hair and his clothes as well as possible with his hands sort of shaking with the sudden rush of certainty – he believes it.

He doesn't understand it. None of it. Maybe that will take a while. Maybe the thought just takes some getting used to. But he _believes_ it. It's real. It has to be.

Because after everything today – the things Kurt showed him, the things he told him, his conversation with Sam, the tiny spark of knowledge and understanding deep inside that's been growing all day, fanned on to burn brighter by all the details falling into place the longer he thought about it. It's the only thing that makes sense. The only thing that explains all of it. _Magic_.

He closes the door behind himself and jumps down the stairs two steps at a time – calling him isn't enough. He needs to see him. He needs to tell him. He just … he needs to do this properly. It's what Kurt deserves.

**

It takes him a full hour to find his way to NYADA and it only occurs to him once he's standing outside the dorms that he doesn't have the faintest idea where Kurt actually lives. He's never been to his place before. He just knows that he lives in the dorms while the friend he and Mercedes used to share a loft with is off to L.A. for a semester. And NYADA may not be the biggest school, but there's still more than one dorm building and even if he knew the right one, he'd still have to knock on every single door to find him. That's clearly not the best plan imaginable.

“Excuse me,” he calls out to the guy just walking past him, holding out a tentative hand to get his attention. “Hey, hi, um, can I ask you something?”

The guy stops, his smile curious but friendly. “Sure, of course,” he says with a British accent.

“I- uh -” Blaine draws in a breath, makes himself slow down so as not to appear rude. “I'm looking for Kurt Hummel,” he says. “You don't happen to know him?”

“I do, actually,” the guy says. “Unless there's two of them, we're in the same glee club together.”

“Oh, I, awesome, I –“ Blaine grimaces. “You couldn't maybe tell me where I may find him?”

The guy tilts his head at him. “And you are looking for him because -?”

“I'm a friend,” Blaine explains. “I – don't go here. But he – I'm – my name's Blaine, I don't know if -”

“Blaine!” The friendly stranger sounds amused. “Yes, he may have mentioned your name once or twice.”

“Oh. Good.”

“Tall red building to your left,” the guy says, pointing a hand to show the way. “Third floor, I think. Pretty sure, actually. Can't tell you which door, though, sorry.”

Blaine nods, puts on his widest smile. “No problem. Thanks for your help.”

“Anytime,” the guy says. “See you around, Blaine.”

Blaine hurries off as fast as possible without breaking into a run, until he's sure the guy has turned away, then he runs as fast as his legs carry him. He bursts through the door of the indicated building, jabs the button for the elevator, shifts impatiently from one foot to the other as he waits. He jabs the button again more forcefully before he curses quietly, turns on his heels to run for the stairs, sprinting up the steps to the third floor almost like he's flying.

_Kurt_ is up there.

He knocks on the first door to his right, a little too loudly, and an annoyed looking guy with headphones dangling from his hand yanks the door open. “What?” he barks.

“Uh, so sorry,” Blaine stammers, slightly taken aback. “Wrong door.”

The guy grunts and slams the door in his face. Blaine moves on to the door to his left, knocks a bit more tentatively. There's no response at all, so he moves one door over.

A girl opens, hair rumpled, looking sleepy. “Huh?” she asks. “I don't know you, do I?”

“No,” Blaine says. “I'm sorry, wrong door.”

The girl yawns widely without covering her mouth. “Whoyoulookinfor?” she manages, rubbing one eye with the heel of a hand.

“Um. Kurt Hummel? I'm his, uh -”

The girl waves to the left. “Two doors over,” she mumbles. “Goodnight.” And closes the door again.

“Thank you,” Blaine says to the solid wood of the closed door, before hurrying two doors further down, raising his hand slowly. This is it, he thinks. Kurt is in there. His heart is beating so hard in his chest, and it's not just from all the running, he knows. It's – so much more than that. He can't wait any longer.

He knocks, firmly, and he knows what he's doing. He knows why he's here, now. There's no courage to gather, no perfect moment to wait for. He's here now. And he wants this. He's made up his mind.

The door swings open and there is Kurt, wearing the same clothes he'd had on earlier, but his hair's a little messier, as if he's been running his hands through it a lot. His shirt's crumpled. His eyes are tired and sad. Then he sees Blaine, and they brighten, widen, just the tiniest bit.

“Blaine?” he says. It comes out on the end of an exhale.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Blaine asks.

Kurt looks at him, mouth falling open, a flicker of hope crossing his face. “Excuse me?”

“Please go out with me,” Blaine says, still breathless from the run, but so determined. This is right. This is the thing that makes the most sense in the world, whatever the world is actually made of. This is what he wants, in any and every version of it. “I _really_ like you, Kurt. And if you still want to, I'd really like to buy you dinner.”

Kurt inhales sharply, lets out a long exhale. His eyes close, only for a moment, and when he opens them again, there's a smile blooming on his face, a light blush rising on his cheeks. “Are you sure?”

“So sure,” Blaine promises. “I want this.”

“Okay.”

He pauses. “You'll go out with me?”

Kurt's laugh sounds so relieved, so happy. “Of course I'll go out with you. Of course I will.”

Blaine can't help himself, he has to hug him. It's the second time he hugs him today, but it's better than the first – there's no uncertainty this time, no doubt. It's a beginning, this time. He's sure of it.

“I'm sorry it took me so long,” he mumbles against the side of Kurt's neck, tightening his arms around his waist, eyes closed; Kurt is so warm, so perfect against him. “I know it's already like, almost seven, but I saw a few places close by on my way here, maybe one of them's good, I don't know, I've never been here before -”

“Wait.” Kurt pulls back a little, searching his eyes, sounding surprised. “You meant _now_? You want to go out right now?”

Blaine falters. “Uh – yeah, I kind of – I'm sorry. We don't have to. I just thought, if you have time, I don't want to waste another minute. It's – we can wait, it's not a problem -”

“I'd love to go right now,” Kurt interrupts. “That sounds perfect.”

“Yeah?”

“I was hoping so much that you'd come back,” Kurt whispers, smiles.

Blaine smiles back, his heartbeat finally calming, and he knows he made the right choice. “Of course I came back,” he says. “We haven't settled our 'cheesecake versus cronuts' debate yet.”

Kurt laughs and takes a step back, shaking his head at him. “Just let me put on my shoes and we can go.”

Blaine nods, and he can't stop grinning. He's _so_ glad he decided to come here tonight.


	7. guide

They head for a small diner a few blocks away that Kurt has been to before.

“They have good pizza,” he promises.

Blaine bounces on his feet a little. “Pizza sounds amazing.”

But then, honestly, everything sounds amazing right now. Because. They're going on a _date_. 

And maybe it was a bit of an emotional day, with his whole world turned upside down and nothing the same as it was this morning; maybe this isn't the most romantic set up for a first date, but Blaine doesn't care. It's still perfect. Because it's with Kurt. And he's liked him an insane amount since the minute they met, and now they're going on a _date_.

The diner is small, but it's not crowded, and they get a table near the window. They sit across from each other as they eat their pizza, and Blaine has so many questions, so many things he wants to know, but he doesn't ask. Not right now. They have time for all of that.

“Have you found a song for your voice project yet?” he asks Kurt instead.

Kurt nods excitedly, swallows a bite of his pizza. “Yes! Oh my god! I wanted to talk to you about that, actually. I've narrowed it down to five songs, but I can't decide between them because they're all amazing and they all have different challenges and I was hoping you could help me figure this out?”

“What are your choices?” Blaine sits up a little straighter, happy that Kurt trusts him to help with this.

“Okay, so -” Kurt takes a sip of his soda, then launches into listing all the songs he's considering, with all of their pros and cons, and Blaine listens, nods, makes suggestions.

By the time their pizzas are gone and their glasses empty they have filled three paper napkins front and back with pro and con lists for each song and Blaine is trying to convince Kurt he needs to sing them all for him so they'll have a better idea of which one is the most fitting for his assignment.

Kurt laughs, pockets the napkins as they get up from their table. “What will you sing for me in return?”

“Oh, is this a negotiation?” Blaine asks, grinning at Kurt.

“Maybe I just like hearing your voice,” Kurt says back, blushes deeply.

Blaine wants to kiss him.

**

Outside the diner, Kurt hesitates, looks at him. “Would you maybe – like to go for a walk?”

Blaine nods. Anything to spend more time with Kurt. And also, he's spent all afternoon sitting on his ass, he'd like to move a bit if he's being honest. “That sounds perfect.”

“Well, then that's very fitting, isn't it?” Kurt says. “After all, it's been a perfect evening so far.”

It's Blaine's turn to blush.

**

They walk in the direction of the park Kurt showed him earlier that day; Blaine recognizes some of the houses they pass along the way. After the easy conversation over food, silence stretches between them as they walk, their shoulders bumping occasionally.

Blaine is about to break the silence to tell Kurt how glad he is they're doing this, when Kurt speaks first.

“You have questions,” he says. “I know you do. You can ask them, Blaine.”

Blaine nods, bites his lip. “I do have questions,” he says. “But – you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to.”

Kurt smiles at him. “I want to tell you. Don't worry about that. It's not – none of it's a secret. It's just … if you're living with it, every day, and you live in a place where everyone's living with it every day, it's difficult sometimes to figure out how to explain it to someone else. To decide what you need to know to make sense of all this.”

“I think I get that,” Blaine says, thinks. “It's just difficult to find a place to start,” he admits. “If you don't know what to ask.”

Kurt bumps his shoulder against Blaine's. “Ask me the first thing that crosses your mind,” he suggests, his fingers brushing Blaine's.

Blaine wants to take his hand. Instead, he asks, “Since when have you known that you were – a mage? Is it a family thing? Is your whole family magic?”

Kurt nods. “I've known my whole life. My dad's a mage. My mom was a really powerful mage.”

“Was?”

“She died when I was eight.”

“Oh. I didn't – I'm so sorry, Kurt.”

Kurt shakes his head. “It was a long time ago. I miss her very much, but – Anyway. I always knew, yes.”

“And you can date a non-magic person?”

“Sure I can.” Kurt shrugs. “That's not even an issue. My stepmom has no magic, and neither does my stepbrother.”

“But they know?”

“Yeah.” Kurt nods again.”It's tough to keep this a secret from someone you love.” He sighs. “Telling people isn't always the easiest thing. But it's the right thing to do and generally worth it. If they believe you.”

“So -” He hesitates. “How does this – work? Like – do you all have the same – powers? What do you do?”

Kurt laughs. “This is where it gets complicated, I guess. Um, let's see.” He steers Blaine around another corner, the park coming into view down the street. “How it works – there isn't a guide book. It's not like science or anything. It's much more – instinctive. Like … it's just kind of – a skill? Like using your voice or your hands or learning to walk. It's just – it's hard to explain.”

“No, that makes sense,” Blaine assures him. “I think.”

“Okay.” Their fingers brush together again, almost a caress. Kurt smiles. “Some people have more magic, others have less. We can all do the same stuff with our magic, better or worse depending on how much magic a person has to begin with. But there are differences too.”

“Such as?”

“We have -” he pauses. “We call them 'aptitudes.' It's like … everyone has a specialty, so to speak. I'm a voice mage, for example. So's Mercedes. Oh, by the way, Mercedes is -”

“A mage too. I know, Sam told me,” Blaine cuts him off. “He thought I knew the whole time, by the way. _He_ did. He knew all along.”

“Mercedes said she'd told him,” Kurt says. “I think she really likes him.”

“He really likes her too,” Blaine assures Kurt. “So, you're … voice mages? What does that mean?”

“Ah. Yes. Um.” They enter the park, and Kurt looks at him questioningly. “Do you want to sit? Or keep walking?”

“I wouldn't mind walking a bit, if you don't mind,” Blaine says.

“No, that's fine,” Kurt assures him, leads the way down the narrow path past the first tall oak trees. “I feel like walking too. Anyway, yes. Voice magic. What it means is really that for mages like Mercedes and me magic works best if we channel it through our voices.”

“Like – singing?”

Kurt nods. “Music in itself is powerful magic. It – does stuff to you. You know, just by listening to it, you feel things. You learn things. About the world. About yourself. It can calm you and excite you and make you happy or sad or hopeful.”

“That's what I love about it,” Blaine says.

“And it's what some of us can use for our magic,” Kurt explains. “Spells are – they're not like they are in most of the books. There isn't a word you can say and something magical happens. You need to connect to the essence of it. In whatever way works best for you.”

“And for you that's music?”

Kurt smiles, their shoulders brushing as the path narrows in front of them. “Yes. For me that's music. That's also why I'm at NYADA, as a matter of fact.”

“To – learn magic?”

“To _un_ learn it, kind of,” Kurt says. “Or – to control it. To learn about my other voice as well, the one that doesn't do anything but sing. To separate the two. I want to be a performer.”

“As you should be, you're amazing!”

“Yes, but -” Kurt shrugs. “It means I have to work on my actual singing voice. You know, the magic voice is purely instinctive. The music voice needs a lot more work. And I have to learn to keep the two separate. I don't want any accidents on stage.”

“Doesn't Mercedes what to be a performer too?”

“She was discovered for her music voice right out of high school,” Kurt says. “She's pretty amazing. Like, _insanely_ talented.”

“You are too. You're amazing.”

Kurt shrugs. “I mean, I know I have a certain amount of talent or I wouldn't actively try to become a performer. But for now, I'm really happy to be at NYADA. I'm enjoying the training. I was in glee club at school, but we were never that good. My mom taught me a bit about singing before she died – she was a voice mage too – but, well.”

“What other kinds of magic are there?” Blaine wants to know.

“My dad's a tactual mage,” Kurt says. “His strength are tools and instruments. He can channel his power through touch and through objects. Which makes him amazing at fixing things, for example. Tactual mages are the only ones who actually carry wands, some of the time.”

“Seriously?” Blaine asks, excited.

Kurt laughs. “Yeah, just like in _Harry Potter._ Anyway, apart from those two, there's also imagination. Mages who can channel their magic through focused thought and original ideas. That's really rare, though. And incredibly powerful. More common than that is element mages – in that branch you have your basic earth mages, water mages, and air mages. Some fire mages, but that's pretty rare. Everyone has a talent. An _aptitude_.”

“It sounds fascinating,” Blaine says.

“I guess it's a bit confusing at first,” Kurt admits. “But those are the basics.”

“Does every mage have a normal job?” Blaine wants to know. “Are there special mage jobs?”

Kurt laughs. “No, most of us just work normal jobs. We still need to pay rent and buy food.”

“Can't you just _make_ money?”

“It's not allowed,” Kurt explains. “And we do have a … sort of government. To keep order. They don't have a lot to do, though, these days. We're a very boring bunch, actually. Most of the time.”

“So -” Blaine tries to keep track of all the new information, to wrap his head around it. “If you're a voice mage. You have to sing something every time you want to do magic? Your dad always needs to touch something?”

Kurt shakes his head. “No. An aptitude is your strongest connection to your magic. So you'll need it for powerful spells, for everything that requires a lot of magic. But for simple things it's just – sort of _there_. I don't know how to describe or explain it. I just – feel it. In me, somewhere. And I access it and – yeah. That's how it works. Like – speaking, or thinking, or moving your hands. It's a part of me. That's how I turned that stone into a paper clip. I wasn't singing for that, was I?”

“Right.” Blaine thinks for a second. “I – never thought it possible that I'd says this. But – that all kind of makes sense to me.”

“I'm glad,” Kurt says.

“I'm glad too,” Blaine says. “That you decided to tell me. And most of all I'm glad that there's no rule against a mage dating a non-magic person. Because I'd really like to see you again. Kind of all the time, actually.”

Kurt blushes, and he looks so happy it makes Blaine's heart beat faster with answering happiness. He's beginning to understand: he'll do anything to make Kurt smile like that. Anything.

“I'd really like that too,” Kurt says quietly.

They walk back in the direction of Kurt's school when they finally get tired of walking – it's dark by then, but Kurt still looks breathtakingly beautiful in the light of the street lamps. Blaine walks with him up to the door of his dorm building. Kurt insists he doesn't have to. Blaine doesn't care.

“You could stay, you know?” Kurt says, blushes immediately. “Not like – _that_. I'm not implying anything. We haven't even – I just meant, I don't have a couch I could offer you, but my room's technically a double. I do have a second bed. And it's late.”

Blaine considers it, but shakes his head regretfully. “I have a class at eight in the morning tomorrow and all my stuff's at home. I'm sorry. I really want to stay. But -”

“I understand,” Kurt says. “I just don't want to say goodnight.” He laughs.

Blaine stares at him, and he's never in his whole life seen a person more beautiful. “If I kiss you,” he says, “will something magical happen?”

“I don't know,” Kurt whispers, “Only one way to find out.”

They lean in at the exact same time, lips meeting with soft pressure. It's warm, a little wet and – overwhelmingly perfect.

The world doesn't explode, neither one of them changes into something else, there's no explosion of fireworks. And yet it's …

“... Magic,” Blaine whispers, as their lips separate.

“Yes,” Kurt confirms, and leans back in for another kiss.


	8. hope

Monday morning Blaine has to get up early for his first class. He's in a good mood from the moment he wakes up, can't stop himself from singing in the shower, dances to the upbeat little melody he's got stuck in his head as he toasts some stale bread and makes coffee in his tiny kitchen.

He kissed Kurt. Kurt kissed him back. The world is kind of too perfect to be possible sometimes.

Yesterday everything got turned upside down and now he's living in a world where he gets to kiss Kurt; beautiful, smart, lovely, witty, _perfect_ Kurt who hugged him so tightly last night and pressed their lips together again and again as they tried to say goodnight, and it was so late by the time Blaine finally made it home he feels like he really should be grumpy from sleep-deprivation this morning. But all he feels is happiness. So much of it he can't stop humming under his breath.

Sam has an audition for a voice acting gig this morning so he comes shuffling into the kitchen just as Blaine drains the rest of his coffee.

“Good morning,” Blaine sings, puts the cup in the sink to wash out later. “And what a beautiful morning it is.”

Sam blinks at him, rubs some sleep out of his eyes. “I take it you did talk to Kurt yesterday, after all.”

Blaine _beams_. “We kissed.”

“Dude!” Sam offers his hand for a high five. “That's awesome.”

“It's better than awesome,” Blaine confirms, twirls over to the small kitchen table to pick up the rest of his toast. “Oh, there's still coffee in the pot. I have to get to class.”

“Yeah, talk to you later, man,” Sam says.

“Good luck for your audition. I hope you get it!”

Sam nods at him, yawns, and Blaine laughs, unable to contain his emotions today, and hurries out into the living room to find his shoes.

Like every morning the past few weeks, he texts Kurt before leaving the apartment. _Good morning_ , he writes, like he does every day. This morning he adds a little _xo_ to the end of his text. It's not a big change. But it makes all the difference.

He's down the stairs and heading down the sidewalk when his phone buzzes with a reply; Kurt's usual _good morning_ in response. Today, followed by a _< 3._

Blaine bounces a little on his feet and can't help the wide grin on his face as he dances his way to the subway.

He hasn't felt this hopeful about the future in a long, long time. Kurt is _perfect._

**

They work another shift together on Tuesday evening, and Blaine gets there fifteen minutes early in the hopes of catching Kurt alone before they have to start working. Kurt apparently had the same idea and is already waiting for him pretending to be reading something on his phone just outside the doors.

Gunther isn't there today and Santana who is working with them is distracted flirting with Dani who is also working tonight, so Blaine spends ten minutes with Kurt in the employee restroom just kissing and holding hands and staring into each other's eyes a lot before their shift starts. It's the best ten minutes of his day.

Their weeks are busy but they make time for each other as best as they can – they exchange texts, call each other at night, meet up for coffee between classes on Wednesday and Friday when their schedules align.

“Go on a date with me this weekend?” Kurt asks over coffee on Friday.

Blaine smirks at him, gestures at their coffee cups. “This isn't a date?”

Kurt grins back. “This is a coffee date. I want to take you out on a date that involves a proper meal, and maybe a movie, or a play, or a long romantic walk, preferably followed by kissing. A lot of kissing.” He blushes a little, which is an adorable look on him. Kurt doesn't have a problem initiating hugs or kisses, but he often gets a little embarrassed putting these things into words. It's the cutest thing in the world and never fails to make Blaine fall that little bit harder for him.

“Saturday?” Blaine asks. “I have a shift tonight. But tomorrow I'm free all day.”

“I have the morning shift tomorrow,” Kurt says. “But I get off at eleven and the rest of the weekend is completely mine after that. Or -” he pauses, lowers his eyes, turns beet red. “- ours. If you want.”

Blaine reaches across the table to take his hand, wrapping his fingers firmly around Kurt's.

He really has never felt more hopeful about the future than he does now, with Kurt looking at him like he's precious. He doesn't know what he's done to deserve this, but he's insanely grateful for it.

**

Blaine sleeps in Saturday morning since he worked late the night before, but he still wakes up with enough time to actually get some of his assignments out of the way before he has to leave for their date.

Kurt wanted to head home for a shower and fresh clothes after his shift and Blaine understands – even after the few shifts he's worked at the diner so far, the smell of coffee and grease already seems to be permanently clinging to his uniform.

They'd thought about catching a movie together, but right now the weather is still nice and they want to make use of it before the rain sets in with the beginning of fall. There's a small open-air concert in a park near Blaine's campus; he'd seen the fliers in the hallway at school everywhere. So that's where they go this afternoon, Blaine with a picnic blanket clamped under his arm and Kurt's hand held tightly in his.

There are different bands playing, college bands, their style ranging from Broadway covers to punk rock. They're all really good, though.

“I tried having a band, once,” Kurt says during a break while one band leaves the stage and the next one sets up.

“Really?” Blaine gives him an interested look. “I always wanted one but never got around to it.”

“It was just me and my friend Elliott,” Kurt says, “and Rachel who abandoned us for California this year. Santana from the diner was interested in joining at first, but then she never had time when we did and eventually it all just fell apart.” He shrugs.

“Have you thought about starting it back up again?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shakes his head. “Maybe next year. I don't know yet. Why, would you be interested in joining us?”

“I don't know,” Blaine says. “I might be.”

“Elliott would like you,” Kurt says. “He's doing his work placement this semester and he went back to New Jersey for that to save rent. But I hope he'll be back next year.”

“Is he -” Blaine looks around, making sure no one's listening, even though Kurt has told him it wouldn't matter. “You know. If he goes to NYADA with you, that means he's a mage? Like you?”

Kurt nods. “Yeah. He's a year ahead of me, but – he's one of my best friends. After Mercedes. But she's not at school with me. Which you know already.”

“Mercedes wasn't part of your band?”

“Her agent at the time didn't like the idea so she didn't join.”

“Oh. I see.”

“If we get the band back together, I'd love for you to join us,” Kurt assures him.

“I'd be the only non-magic person in the group,” Blaine points out.

“So?” Kurt shrugs. “It's not like we use our magic voices when we make music together. It would be okay.”

“It wouldn't be weird?”

“Of course not.” Kurt leans over, kisses him softly on the lips. “You wouldn't even have to audition. Because I already know you're amazing.”

“Kurt,” Blaine says, feeling a little embarrassed and a lot happy.

“I mean it, though,” Kurt says. “Say the word and you're in.”

“You just want to save yourself the headache of holding open auditions,” Blaine teases, bumps Kurt's arm with his shoulder.

Kurt laughs out loud. “Oh, you're totally onto me. But honestly.” His smile is warm and affectionate. “I also really just – want to sing with you.”

“Let's do a duet at the diner during our next shift together,” Blaine suggests.

“I'd love that,” Kurt promises, looking pleased. “I love that having you as a boyfriend kind of comes with a built-in duet partner.”

Blaine just stares at him, can feel his smile getting almost comically big, heart beating so hard as happiness bubbles up inside his chest.

“What?” Kurt asks, when Blaine just keeps beaming at him.

“You said boyfriend,” he explains.

Kurt bites his lip. “Well – I just thought -”

Blaine leans forward and kisses him, deeply, their hands finding each other on the blanket between them. “I love being your boyfriend,” he breathes.

“Good,” Kurt whispers, “because I really love it too,” and kisses him again.

And, really, the future has never, never looked brighter.


	9. indecent

As fall sets in it starts to rain and doesn't seem to want to stop anymore. They start spending more time inside. Blaine's apartment is their preferred choice because it's bigger and because he has a couch for them to snuggle on while they watch their TV marathons, and he has the kitchen table where they can sit across from each other, feet tangled, working on their assignments.

The night before their one-month anniversary Kurt spends the night at Blaine's place for the first time. They have the apartment to themselves, which, Blaine is sure, was deliberately planned this way by their friends. He's grateful for that.

Kurt comes over Saturday afternoon; they both picked up extra shifts the week before to have this weekend to themselves.

Blaine kisses him hello by the door, a kiss that lasts several minutes and leaves them both rather flustered.

“Hi,” Kurt breathes, once they pull back.

“Hey,” Blaine whispers back, kisses his nose. He has such an adorable nose.

“Did you get cuter while I wasn't looking?” Kurt asks, grins at him. “Because I didn't think that was possible.”

“You're beautiful,” Blaine breathes, then blushes crimson.

Kurt lowers his eyes, and he looks embarrassed but happy. “You're such a sap,” he says.

“It's true,” Blaine promises, and leans their foreheads together. He's so in love with this man. And maybe it's just a one-month anniversary, but he's determined to make it perfect for him.

They make dinner together, the playlist Blaine's put together for them playing in the background. Kurt starts singing along three songs in and Blaine smiles and sings with him, their hips bumping against each other where they're standing side by side at the small kitchen counter.

They take their food out into the living room once it's done and sit on the floor on opposite ends of the coffee table.

“I think I like anniversaries,” Kurt tells him, eyes sparkling over the rim of his water glass. “And the real anniversary isn't even until tomorrow.”

“We're having an anniversary weekend,” Blaine decides. “That's a thing.”

“It absolutely is,” Kurt agrees.

For tomorrow, they have plans – a bit of sightseeing since neither of them took the time when they first moved here, and in the evening they're going to have dinner and then probably retreat into Kurt's dorm room and watch a movie on his laptop.

But tonight, there are no plans.

Once the food is gone they do the dishes together – it's quick work, and they both don't like leaving that for the morning.

“Do you want to watch something?” Blaine asks, drying his hands on a dish towel as Kurt puts the leftover quiche into the fridge.

The playlist, which has run all the way through twice already while they were busy talking over dinner, shuffles to _Just Can't Get Enough_ and Kurt grins, reaches for Blaine's hand and spins him away from him before pulling him back in.

“No,” he says. “I want you to dance with me.”

Blaine laughs with delight and reaches for him with eager hands, the happy beat of the song making him feel light and full of energy after sitting for so long.

“With pleasure,” he promises, and twirls them out of the kitchen.

Dancing mostly turns into jumping around the living room, yelling the lyrics at each other. Blaine even goes as far as hopping onto the armrest of the couch for some hip-wiggling which makes Kurt laugh so much he misses the next two lines.

Kurt, who is stunningly beautiful, so elegant every time he sits next to Blaine with his head tilted toward him, one eyebrow raised as he listens to his rambling, is not a graceful dancer at _all_. Blaine knows he must have the skills, he's getting the training at NYADA, he must have a certain level of proficiency when he puts in the effort.

But tonight, here in Blaine's living room, he's adorably awkward, bordering on clumsy, graceless and happy and completely uninhibited. He does the cutest shoulder shimmy and makes the most ridiculous faces and Blaine is so in love with him, so, so absolutely and completely in _love_ with him he can hardly sing through the wideness of his grin.

They dance for a few more songs, bouncing around the living room until they're out of breath, faces flushed, hearts beating fast.

It's during the final notes of _You Make me Feel So Young_ that Kurt reaches for him again, pulls him close, and suddenly Blaine is being lowered into a dip, laughs up at Kurt.

The song ends, something slow starts playing, and Kurt doesn't put him upright again, looks down at him instead, eyes searching his face.

“Kurt,” Blaine says quietly, the only word he knows in this moment.

Kurt kisses him, a gentle press of lips, incredibly soft, and Blaine hums into it, eyes falling shut, hands tightly holding on to Kurt's shoulders.

Slowly, Kurt raises them again, never stops kissing him. On the lips, over his cheek, the side of his nose, both closed eyelids, back down to his lips.

“You are so lovely,” Kurt says, voice quiet, a little rough.

“So are you.” Blaine slips his arms around his waist, presses his face into the crook of his neck, breathes in the scent of him – skin and sweat and the faint hint of cologne. “I'm so happy,” he whispers.

Kurt kisses his ear, replies, “Yeah, I feel exactly the same way.”

There's no conversation about it, nothing planned. Blaine had thought it might be where the night was headed with Kurt staying over and everything, but he had been perfectly prepared to sleep on the couch tonight and offer Kurt his bed. He'd prepared a list of arguments to convince Kurt it should be that way around, had anticipated Kurt trying to sleep on the couch and let Blaine have the bed instead. But he'd been prepared for this too, hadn't really dared to think too much about it, hadn't wanted to simply expect it.

Kurt is so often so effortlessly sexy it's difficult for Blaine to keep his mind from straying to rather, um, indecent places. But tonight, he thinks maybe he can let his mind stray. Because they seem to be so perfectly on the same page here.

It doesn't happen because they planned for it, it happens because they're both here and they're ready, they want this, and they want it with each other.

Blaine's never done anything like this before, has barely even kissed anyone before Kurt, and he knows Kurt's as inexperienced as he is.

None of that matters.

They find their way to Blaine's room still kissing, and when Kurt lowers himself down onto Blaine's mattress, stretches out on his back, Blaine crawls after him, sinks down on top of him to keep kissing.

It's slow, it's a little awkward at first and then just kind of perfect, and Blaine had expected it to be good, but what it is is … It's … so much more.

It's kind of everything. And he knows Kurt is absolutely perfect, but then they get his clothes off and Blaine almost forgets how to breathe because he's … he's … too beautiful for words. Blaine feels his hands shaking as he reaches for him, smooth, soft skin of his belly, scratchy hair on his legs, firm muscles of his arms leading into strong shoulders, the cute shape of his toes, and then the final piece of clothing goes and - 

“Oh,” Blaine breathes, swallows, makes himself not stare, fingers itching with the need to touch. He lifts his eyes back up to Kurt's and Kurt smiles at him, a little shyly, but reaches for the last of Blaine's clothes anyway with trembling fingers.

It's weird, being naked with someone, Blaine thinks. He feels – exposed, vulnerable, not quite sure what to do. He feels honored that Kurt trusts him with his own vulnerability in return.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, and traces careful fingertips down his side, over the slight swell of his stomach, and a little further, then hesitates - “I -”

“It's okay,” Blaine says, no idea what he really means by that. He just … _wants_. He wants this. He wants to feel all of it. With Kurt.

**

Afterwards, they hold each other, can't let go, sweaty, sticky skin pressed together, heavy breaths slowly, slowly calming.

Blaine feels – elated, exhausted, so lucky, happier than he can ever remember being.

He cards his fingers through Kurt's hair, kisses the side of his nose, feels Kurt's answering kiss to the corner of his left eye.

It's been a month. _Is it too soon?_ he thinks. But he knows it to be real. He's sure.

“Kurt,” he says. “I -” He hesitates, opens and closes his mouth, he doesn't want to scare him by moving too fast.

“I know,” Kurt says, before Blaine can continue. “I know. I feel it too.”

Blaine lifts his head enough to nudge their noses together, lips finding Kurt's, and he just feels – so lucky to be here.

With Kurt.

**

They're sitting up against the headboard, cleaned up quickly and without much effort, the sheet up to their bellies and Blaine's head resting comfortably against Kurt's shoulder.

“You are magical,” Blaine tells him. “This whole night was magic.”

“I feel -” Kurt pauses, fingertips of one hand stroking up and down Blaine's arms softly. “I don't even know. Just – we're naked. Both of us.”

Blaine nods. “Very astute observation, my dear.”

“Oh, shut up. I just meant – it doesn't feel weird at all, does it?”

Blaine doesn't even have to think about it. “Not one bit. I like this.”

“I want to do it again,” Kurt says.

“Oh, yes, definitely! Lots of times.”

Kurt stretches out his hand, makes a little ball of bright energy, lets it dance and swirl on his palm. “Yeah,” he says.

“Pretty,” Blaine comments, nodding towards the little cloud of light.

Kurt nods. “I'm sorry, it's – it's not bothering you, is it?”

Blaine shakes his head. “Of course not.”

“It's just that sometimes when I get really -” he bites his lip, smiles so widely. “- _happy_. I, um. It just – wants out. The magic. Somehow.”

“Like I sometimes get the urge to just sing everything that goes through my head?” Blaine asks.

“I guess, yeah.” Kurt kisses him through the curls, hums a little. “That sounds right.”

“Sometimes -” Blaine says, hesitates. “Sometimes I'd like to know what it feels like, for you. Magic.”

Kurt is silent for a moment. “You can, you know?” he says.

Blaine's head snaps up. “How?”

Kurt shrugs. “I can channel my magic through you. For a spell, or just for fun. It's not like you'd be doing magic, but – you'd feel the echo of it.”

“That's something you can do?”

Kurt nods. “We don't do that a lot, because it's very draining for the non-magics. But yes, that's possible.”

“Have you done it before?”

“Yes.” Kurt closes his palm, the light ball fades. “My brother actually loves helping out with magic stuff. He says it feels all tingly and like having a really awesome dream.” He laughs. “He used to make me let him help out with spells all the time when I was still living at home.”

“That's – really cool, can we do that?” Blaine feels his heart speed up again, excitement bubbling up in his chest.

“Sure.” Kurt confirms. “If you want to.”

“I do. Does it actually help, when you use that for spells?”

Kurt nods. “It makes the magic stronger. Using another person as a sort of … resonator. But that's also why it's technically forbidden.”

“Because it makes you stronger?”

Kurt shakes his head. “If you have someone who willingly helps you out, gives their consent and is conscious for the spell, that's okay. It also makes for really, really powerful magic. But -” he sighs. “You don't technically _have_ to get someone's consent for it in order to work. There have been mages, in the past, who snatched people off the streets by the dozen to keep them sedated and tied up in a locked vault to use them as resonators. So today this kind of … they call it _indecent magic_ , which is a bit of a euphemism for what it really is … is strictly monitored and if any mage does this to another person without their express consent, it has serious consequences.”

Blaine swallows. “What kind of consequences?”

“They take your powers,” Kurt explains. “There won't even be a trial. One strike and you're out. And with good reason,” he says, shudders a little. “When someone wants this, there's no harm in it. Nothing can happen, unless the magic is too powerful. That's always a risk. But forcing magic on someone -” Kurt pauses. “If it's too much, it usually kills them within days. Or at least damages them permanently. It – burns out your soul, unwanted magic, if you have none to protect yourself.”

“That's – um.” Blaine cuddles closer to Kurt. “That doesn't happen anymore though?”

Kurt hugs him in tight. “Not for more than a hundred years now.”

“And if you do this with me because I want to -”

“It's safe. It's perfectly safe. I didn't mean to scare you.”

“I trust you,” Blaine says, lifts his head to meet Kurt's eyes. “I want to feel what you feel.”

Kurt smiles, kisses him, long and drawn-out and so, so soft. “Are you sure?”

He doesn't even hesitate. “Absolutely.”

“Okay.” Kurt kisses him again, then puts a careful hand on Blaine's chest, right over his heart, hums softly, and the air around them starts glowing, a soft, golden glow that warms Blaine's skin.

It does feel like having a really awesome dream, Blaine thinks, as the glow gives way to just – light, and all the colors in the world become brighter and he feels … energy, warm and gentle and welcoming.

“Do you feel it?” Kurt asks.

Blaine nods, his own voice feeling far away as he answers. “Yeah,” he says. “It's – god, it's so pretty!”

Slowly, slowly, the warmth fades and the colors go back to normal, it feels a bit like waking up with the memory of a really pleasant dream just at the back of your mind.

“Wow,” he says, as Kurt takes his hand off his chest.

“Good?” Kurt asks.

Blaine kisses him. “Amazing. Thank you!”

“Anytime,” Kurt says. “Well. Not any time. We can't do that too much. But -”

“I loved it,” Blaine says. “I also feel – hungry now.”

Kurt laughs. “That's probably more form all the calories we burned earlier.”

Blaine lifts his eyebrows at him, smirks. “Wanna burn some more? So we can earn us a midnight snack later?”

“I like the way you think,” Kurt tells him, and pushes him down into the pillows.


	10. jumble

It's the first week of November, the weather cold and windy, and Friday night they're having a movie night at Blaine's place; a double date, actually, with Sam and Mercedes.

The couch is too small for all of them so they switch after the first half of the movie – Sam and Mercedes cuddle up on the floor for the first half of _The Princess Bride_ while Kurt and Blaine take the couch, and then Blaine and Kurt move to the floor for the second half.

The floor is almost more comfortable than the lumpy old couch, Blaine thinks. It's actually quite nice. They have a pile of blankets and pillows and Kurt cuddles up close to him, warm and lazy and adorable like a sleepy kitten.

Once the movie is over Sam and Mercedes say goodnight and retreat into Sam's room – Blaine knows (because Sam has no filter most of the time) that the two won't be having sex in there, but they still like sleeping in the same room. It's sweet, he thinks. He's happy that they have each other.

He's happy he has Kurt.

Kurt, who's still cuddled up against him, his head resting comfortably on Blaine's belly, eyes closed.

“Honey,” Blaine says softly, strokes a hand through Kurt's hair. “Hey. Movie's over. Time to go to bed.”

“Nope,” Kurt informs him and yawns, which is so unbearably cute Blaine has to lean down and kiss his cheek. “'m very comfortable”

“You'll be even more comfortable in your nice, warm, soft bed. Under a nice, warm, soft blanket.”

“No. I'm not done cuddling you yet,” Kurt decides, slips his arms around Blaine's waist to hold on tight.

Blaine laughs softly, kisses his hair. “Come on. We can't sleep here. If you come with me now, I'll let you be the little spoon.”

“Fine,” Kurt groans, heaves a sigh. “But if that's supposed to be a bribe, I need a little more payment than that to move from my comfortable spot.”

He lets Blaine lead him through into the bathroom where they brush their teeth side by side, grinning at each other in the mirror, toothpaste foam on on their lips and eyes heavy-lidded with exhaustion from a long week.

In bed, Kurt pulls Blaine close and collects his 'payment' – they go slow tonight, almost lazy, unhurried and gentle and just really, really, toe-curlingly good.

Blaine holds him tight as they fall asleep, surrounded by the scent of him, the already familiar feel of him in his arms, the soft sounds he makes as he breathes.

He wants to tell him how he feels. He doesn't think it's too early anymore. But he doesn't just want to blurt it out. Big gestures are kind of his thing and so far he hasn't really done anything like that for Kurt. When he tells him something this big, he wants it to be special.

He's going to have to come up with something.

Something really good.

**

The next morning they make breakfast together – Blaine makes blueberry pancakes while Kurt hugs him from behind and, Blaine is pretty sure, goes back to sleep leaned against him for a few more minutes while Blaine stacks pancakes on a plate.

They eat, they shower (together, which is very – enjoyable), and then they head out; Blaine has a shift at the diner, Kurt has a study group. Usually, they try to get the same shifts these days, but that doesn't always work out. But they're going to meet up for dinner tonight, and in all likelihood Kurt is going to stay over at Blaine's place again. He's been doing that a lot since their first time a few weeks ago – it's so much nicer than his tiny little dorm room.

Kurt is quiet while they're getting ready. On their way to the subway he keeps checking his phone again and again, frowning every time before he puts it back in his pocket.

“Is everything okay?” Blaine asks, as they turn the corner down the block, the wind cold enough to redden their cheeks.

Kurt lifts his shoulders a little helplessly. “It's just my dad. He wanted to call me yesterday afternoon and he didn't. I thought he probably got held up at work, but usually he at least sends me a message if he has to miss a call.”

“Have you tried calling him?” Blaine asks.

Kurt nods. “Last night before the movie and this morning while you were looking for your work shirt. He didn't answer. I've texted him too, and Carole and Finn, but no one's responding.”

Blaine squeezes his hand a little. “I'm sure he's okay. Maybe they're just busy.”

“Yeah.” Kurt says. “I just – I worry, when I don't hear from him.”

“Of course you do,” Blaine says. Kurt's told him about his dad's health issues and he can't imagine what kind of memories that must bring up – being unable to talk to him. “Is there a neighbor you could call?”

“Maybe,” Kurt says. “I don't know. I just hope he'll answer his phone sometime soon.”

“If you need anything, call me,” Blaine says as they reach the subway entrance and start walking down the stairs. “Seriously. Any time.”

“You have work. And it's probably nothing.”

“Still,” Blaine says. “Call me. For anything. Even for nothing.”

“You're my favorite person in the world, do you know that?” Kurt says, squeezing his hand back affectionately.

Blaine smiles.

**

His shift is long and busy and he's working with Santana again who is nice, honestly, except when she's kind of mean. She's usually not quite as mean when Dani is there too, but today they're working with three fairly new people Blaine barely knows and he's running around too much to really get to know them properly.

When he finally gets to leave in the afternoon his feet hurt and he's feeling a headache coming on and the weather outside is still abysmal. He sighs heavily – he forgot his umbrella, his hair will be ruined by the time he makes it home – and ducks out of the door and into the pouring rain, stepping right into a puddle two steps down the sidewalk.

He makes it home shivering from the cold, Sam and Mercedes who are cuddled up on the couch giving him pitying looks.

“You look like a puppy who's been dipped in a water bucket,” Mercedes informs him.

“A really sad puppy,” Sam adds.

“J-just need to sh-shower,” Blaine gets out, simply toeing his shoes off by the door, socks making obscene squelchy noises as he pads across the living room towards the bathroom without even bothering to take his jacket off. It's kind of stuck to him anyway with how wet it is. “If Kurt g-gets here wh-while I'm in there, l-let him in, will you?”

Sam gives him a thumbs up and Blaine slips into the bathroom, finally strips out of his drenched clothes, dumping them all into the sink for now. He'll wash them once he's warm and dry again.

He takes his time showering, lets the warmth seep back into his bones, then actually blow dries his hair even though it always makes his curls frizzy. He doesn't have to go back out today, and he just wants to be dry. He'll live with the insane poodle hair for just one night if it means not being wet any longer.

By the time he pads out of the bathroom and through the hall into his room, wet clothes dumped into a laundry basket he's set down in the living room to carry downstairs to the washing machines in a minute, the door to his room's ajar and he pushes it open all the way, smiling with anticipation, because this can only mean on thing.

Kurt's sitting on his bed, but Blaine's smile fades as he takes him in. He's looking white like a sheet, phone clasped tightly in his hands.

Blaine notices immediately everything that is wrong with this picture.

Kurt hasn't even taken his shoes off, his hair is a mess, his clothes are soaked through with rain. He sits stock still, staring straight ahead, mouth clamped shut tightly, and his hands are shaking.

“Kurt?” Blaine says.

Kurt turns his head slowly, doesn't smile, his eyes dull and too wide, his breaths too slow, too careful, too even.

“Hey,” Blaine says, hurries over to him, sits down next to him on the edge of the bed and takes his hands in his own. Kurt's are cold, clammy. “What's wrong? What happened?”

Kurt blinks, opens his mouth, sucks in a breath. He makes a sound that isn't a word, shakes his head, takes another breath. “My dad,” he says.

Blaine feels his stomach drop. “What happened?”

“He's uh -” Kurt closes his mouth, shakes his head again, almost as if he's trying to wake himself up, like he's not sure any of this real. “He's been. Um. Taken.”

Blaine pauses. “What – Kurt – What?” He's not sure he understands.

“Kidnapped,” Kurt says, and Blaine feels all the air leave his body.

“Oh my god. What – oh my -” He makes himself stop, think. “How -?”

“There's um.” Kurt licks his lips that look dry and cracked – the only dry part of him. “A mage. A – bad one. He's – I thought he was gone, I thought he -”

“He took your dad?”

Kurt nods. “Carole told me. They – they just – she couldn't call before, he had them too, her and Finn, he took my whole family, Blaine, he – he let the two go, Carole and Finn, to, to -”

“I don't understand,” Blaine says. “I don't – who – Kurt, what's going _on_?”

“He let them go to tell me,” Kurt finishes his sentence. “She just called. Like, half an hour ago. I – Blaine, I – I'm sorry, I'm - I don't know how – to -” He breaks off, bites his lip, sucks in a shuddering breath.

“Oh my god,” Blaine repeats, because what do you _say_ when your boyfriends father has just been kidnapped? “I – um. What can we – is there – a mage police, someone, just _someone_ we could call, can we -”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. “He'll kill him. We can't – we can't call anyone Blaine, he'll kill him, I can't let that happen, I have to – I have to -”

“Why did he take him?” Blaine asks, the first question that comes to mind that doesn't sound entirely helpless. “Why your dad?”

Kurt swallows heavily, closes his eyes for a long moment. “To get to _me_ ,” he says. “He did it to get to me. It's all my fault.”

“Why – what does he want with you?”

Kurt opens his eyes, shrugs, and suddenly he looks so tired. “He wants my voice,” he says.

“Your voice?”

Kurt looks at him, meets his eyes, and Blaine doesn't know what to do. His thoughts are in disarray, a jumble of information, none of it makes much sense.

It occurs to him, just a fleeting thought, that he's actually never seen real despair before. Not really. But he sees it now, in his boyfriend's beautiful eyes.

“He's always wanted my voice,” Kurt says.

“...Why?” It's the only thing he can think of to say. He's never felt more useless. Helpless.

“I don't even know. Because mine is better than his. Because he simply wants it. Because he's a spoiled little brat, because he's the kind of guy who always just takes what he wants. Whatever he wants.”

“That – that sounds – what are we gonna do?” Blaine wants to know.

Kurt lifts his shoulders, bites his lip, shakes his head. Again. “If I don't give him my voice,” he says, “he'll kill my father. But if I do give him my voice – he might use it to kill so many more people. To make them suffer. What can I do, Blaine? What – I don't know what to do, I – what can I do?”

Blaine wraps his arms around him, doesn't care about Kurt's wet clothes; being dry and warm has never been less important. “I'm sorry,” he says, because he has no other answer right now.

Kurt sags against him, whispers, “What can I do? Blaine, what can I do?” and doesn't cry.

Blaine holds him, and doesn't know how to help.


	11. kink

They don't sleep much, that night. The don't particularly feel like it. Blaine feels too alert, too full of panicky energy to let exhaustion pull him under, and Kurt – he has no idea how Kurt is even feeling, he just knows it's not good.

Sam and Mercedes have vacated the apartment again, going on a date before heading back to Mercedes' place, even though Blaine had tried to get Kurt to tell them – Mercedes is a mage, and from what he knows a really powerful one. Maybe she could have helped. But Kurt had shaken his head and looked so pale and Blaine hadn't wanted to argue. If they need Sam and Mercedes later, they can always call them. For now, they are thinking that Kurt is upset because he had a bad audition. Blaine doesn't know how he feels about that.

The first half hour after they're gone Kurt just seems – kind of frozen. He doesn't talk much, barely even moves, sits on the edge of Blaine's bed with his back straight, staring at the back of Blaine's desk chair.

He's thinking, Blaine knows. He has that far-away look in his eyes that he gets when he's lost deep in thought. And Blaine … worries. Mostly because he's feeling completely useless in the face of this – he has no idea how to help him. Where would he even start?

He tries talking to him, tries to get him to say something; he needs to make sense of all of this. All he knows is that someone has Kurt's dad and that it's really bad and that there's no one they can ask for help. But he doesn't know why, and Kurt won't talk to him, and he has no idea how to _help_. All he can do is sit here with his arm around Kurt's shoulders feeling completely and totally lost.

“At least let me make you some tea,” he tries tentatively after Kurt hasn't moved for another fifteen minutes.

Kurt's head snaps around to him, his eyes wide and haunted. “I -” He clears his throat, drops his shoulders. “Sorry. Sorry. I – you don't have to -”

“Let me help,” Blaine pleads. “Please. I know this is bad, but – I just want to – have you eaten anything yet? Or – at least let me get you a glass of water?”

Kurt's expression doesn't change. “Water won't help.”

“Neither will getting a headache from dehydration,” Blaine points out. “Please, let me take care of you?”

Kurt deflates, lowers his head. “Thank you,” he whispers.

Blaine gets up from the bed they're still sitting on, kisses the top of his head, still damp from the rain outside. “It's really the least I can do,” he says.

He walks into the kitchen, puts on the kettle for tea water, starts putting together sandwiches. It feels – ridiculous. Fussing over dinner and darting about the kitchen like it's going to fix anything – he feels ridiculous. But – it's all he can do to help, and it's not even really helping, it's just – better than sitting. 

He wishes Mercedes hadn't left. He wishes there was someone here who would understand, someone Kurt could really _talk_ to about all of this. Blaine isn't even really sure what's happening.

When he walks out of the kitchen with his tray, carrying a plate of sandwiches and two mugs of peppermint tea, he finds that Kurt has moved into the living room, is staring blankly at the black screen of the TV in the corner now instead of staring at Blaine's chair.

Blaine joins him on the couch, carefully deposits their dinner on the coffee table.

“I'm sorry,” Kurt says, and Blaine almost jumps with surprise at Kurt initiating conversation.

“What?”

Kurt looks at him. “I must be freaking you out by now. I'm sorry. I just – I'm trying to _think_ and – I can't. And I don't know what to do, Blaine. Whatever I do, I won't be able to fix it, and – I can't lose my dad, I can't -” He puts a hand over his mouth, squeezes his eyes closed, and Blaine quickly reaches for his free hand, clasps it tightly in his own.

“Kurt -” he starts, “isn't there … someone we can ask for help? There must be someone – you said you guys had people in charge, sort of, isn't there someone -”

“It's not that simple,” Kurt says. “If we had – any kind of, of … law enforcement – all we have is our covens, and they usually take care of everything … bad that happens, but the thing is that the guy who has my dad – no one is going to take action against him. No one in my coven.”

Blaine swallows. “Why not? Why – how can you be sure?”

“Because the Claringtons always get away with everything,” Kurt explains. “They're – a _really_ powerful family, Blaine. Everyone's afraid of them, they're either blackmailing or bribing all of them, and by the time I'd be able to convince anyone to do anything my dad could already be -” he breaks off, takes a deep breath, and Blaine can tell he's trying not to let himself cry. “Besides. Even if I _could_ find someone who would be willing to help, I can't exactly tell anyone, can I?”

“Why not? If one of them would be willing to help?”

“It's too risky,” Kurt says. “I don't _know_ who the Claringtons might have in their pocket. If I accidentally tip them off that I'm planning something, it would be – it would be bad. Really, really bad.”

“But surely if you tell them that – that – what he's done -”

“It's not just that,” Kurt says. “They won't believe me. They didn't when he – when he – Their oldest son. Hunter. He – gets away with everything. He always has.”

Blaine hesitates.“What does that mean?”

Kurt sighs. “Most of it was stupid, when we were kids. Serious, but just kind of … well, he got worse over time. He went to a private school in the next town. He was in a competing glee club. For most of the competitions, he charmed the entire panel of judges so they'd let his school win.”

“Charmed as in -”

“He put an enchantment on them. To give him their vote. Sometimes even to disqualify other clubs from competing at random. Whatever he felt like that day.”

“That – is seriously not cool.”

“No.” Kurt shakes his head. “It's not.”

“Is that why he hates you? Because of the old rivalry?”

“Uh, no.” Kurt clears his throat. “That was – um. When I was sixteen, he tried to use a hypnotizing curse on me so I would – sleep with him, fall in love with him, so that he could dump me and break my heart. His idea of a fun time. It didn't work, of course, he'd have to use _way_ stronger magic to make me fall for someone as despicable as him. But he got even worse after that. I think it really upset him when he couldn't make me into his little puppet, it hurt his pride or whatever, so instead, he made it his new mission to destroy me. To steal my voice. In the meantime, he told everyone I'd slept with him, and spread other nasty rumors about me.” He bites his lip. “You have to understand. His family is old. Old and _very_ powerful. They've done a lot of good for the coven over the past hundreds of years, they used to be our leaders back before we had gatherings and started voting on things. But Hunter – he's just a – a -”

“He sounds like a jerk,” Blaine says.

Kurt nods. “He is. He's never had much opportunity to do any _real_ damage, because his dad's still in charge of the family, and he doesn't want to be kicked off the throne, so to speak. But now his father's getting old and frail and -”

“He's trying to take over?” Blaine asks.

Kurt nods. “The thing is, he wants more power than he has. His own magic is – it's a lot already. He's – he's good. But if he had my voice on top of it – this could get really bad.”

“Why doesn't he take your dad's power?” Blaine wants to know.

Kurt shrugs. “Because he has a weird fetish for my voice? I don't know. He's always been after mine. I think he gets off on making me suffer. It's always been this way. But I thought he was gone, I thought – his dad shipped him off to Europe for college, I was sure he was gone -”

“You said that -” Blaine tries to remember everything Kurt has told him about magic, everything he knows. “That sometimes when someone does something evil, that the coven steps in? If he could take your voice, couldn't they take his power instead?”

Kurt sighs. “Yeah. But he has to do something first to warrant such an action.”

“He has already kidnapped your dad.”

“He has to harm him with magic,” Kurt says. “In a permanent way. Otherwise no one will even notice. And like I said. The coven is in his hand. They're probably not even monitoring him. I bet he can do whatever he wants, with all kinds of anti-spy spells all around his fucking mansion.”

“You can't give him your voice,” Blaine says. “If he's as bad as you say he is -”

“Worse, probably. If he gets control of the coven for real – he could change everything. He has no conscience. He uses dark magic. Blaine – everyone's in danger. Not just the coven. _Everyone_. The non-magics too, maybe most of all, he doesn't consider them people, he'll just use them for his own agenda. If he gets any more powerful -”

“Then you _really_ can't give him your voice.”

“If I don't – then my dad -”

“Can we get your dad out?”

Kurt gapes at him. “ _How_?”

“Isn't there – you're really powerful too, right? And so is Mercedes?”

Kurt shakes his head. “I have thought about that. Believe me. Ever since I got the call from Carole, I've tried coming up with a way to do this. Asking – friends. People who I know aren't in his pocket. But – I'd be putting them all in terrible danger, Blaine. If this goes wrong -”

Blaine swallows. “You'd be putting yourself in danger too.” He doesn't like that thought. He doesn't want Kurt in danger, he wants Kurt safe and here with him, happy and sleepy like a kitten, cuddling up against him as they watch movies.

“I don't care about myself,” Kurt says.

“I care,” Blaine says. “I care a _lot_ , Kurt!”

“I have to do _something_. And I have to do it in the next three days because that's when he expects me back in Ohio to kindly hand over my voice in exchange for my father. And the thing is – if I _don't_ do anything, I'm still putting everyone in danger. I'm leaving them all at the mercy of a spoiled rich little brat with a weird voice kink. I can't do that either. I don't _know_ what I can do!”

“We should call Mercedes,” Blaine suggests.

“I know,” Kurt says. “I know.” He sighs heavily. “I know that we have to – we have to do something … I'll have to contact _some_ people. Not the ones who – there are a few people I do trust. Not many, but – I'll have to try _something_. I just – whatever I do, I'm putting someone in danger.”

“I'm sorry,” Blaine says. “I wish there was – I'm sorry. I wish I could help you.”

“You are,” Kurt says, eyes snapping up to Blaine's, squeezing his hand tightly. “God, Blaine – you _are_ helping. If I didn't have you right now I'd probably – You _are_ helping. You're keeping me sane.”

“I'm sorry this is happening to you,” he says, looks into Kurt's eyes to let him know how much he means it. “And I'll do whatever you need, you know that, right?”

Kurt leans in for a kiss, quick and dry and a little off-center, then puts his head down on Blaine's shoulder, just for a moment. “Thank you,” he says, so earnestly it makes Blaine's heart ache.

“Anytime.”

“Okay.” Kurt sits up again, nods once. “Okay. I need to start somewhere. I need to – I guess I do need to call Mercedes now.”

Blaine sits up straight, rolls his shoulders back, tries to work out the slight kink he feels in his neck from all the sitting all night long. “How can I help?”

“You don't have to -”

“I am _going_ to help,” Blaine interrupts. “I care about you more than anything, Kurt. Whatever you need. Just let me know.” He hugs him tight for a moment, then picks up one of the cups from the coffee table. “Drink your tea while it's hot. And tell me exactly what you need me to do.”

“Okay,” Kurt agrees, and he still looks tired, but now there's a flicker of something new in his eyes.

Blaine knows his boyfriend. It means he has an idea. Or at least the beginning of one.


	12. legend

Blaine volunteers his apartment as a gathering place right away when Kurt mentions they'll need somewhere private.

“Magic has a way of keeping itself hidden and secret,” Kurt says, “but a large group of people assembling in a public place and plotting in very loud voices to break into someone's home – people might notice that.”

His dorm room is too tiny and also Kurt doesn't want his headmistress to get wind of what he's planning. He thinks she might help, but it's equally possible she would inform the current head of his coven. 

Well. The head of Kurt's coven is currently Kurt's dad (apparently they have elections for that every seven years), but in his absence, his deputy is a man named Schuester who, as Kurt, describes it, is too idealistic for his own good. “I like his wife, though,” Kurt says. “It's too bad we can't ask her for help either.” Kurt is afraid the two would try to do _'the right thing'_ and try to talk to Hunter. Which would be the worst possible thing they could do, of course.

So now Blaine is standing in his tiny kitchen making coffee for an entire room full mages, which Kurt has assured him he doesn't have to do, but he just wants to. He wants to help _somehow_. It took less than twelve hours since last night for everyone to get here – it's just past breakfast time now.

Kurt has told him he'll be taking care of everything – he'll find places for everyone to stay, he'll pay Blaine back for all the coffee he's making for them, he'll clean the apartment once they leave and he'll do Blaine's homework for a year to make up for keeping him from his studies now.

Every time he starts up again Blaine kisses him to shut him up and promises he doesn't mind. And he doesn't. He just wishes that he could do more.

Kurt has, after all, managed to get some people to join him here. It probably helps that mages don't have to rely on planes and buses and trains – they do, mostly, because traveling by magic requires insane amounts of energy, but this is urgent, so one by one they pop up, some out of thin air using teleport spells, some being deposited on the roof by very large birds (that strangely enough no one down on the street pays any attention to) and one girl by an actual Pegasus. At least Blaine thinks it's Pegasus at first until he sees the large horn on its forehead. 

Blaine is up on the roof anyway to guide people downstairs or he wouldn't have believed it. The girls who climbs off the magical creature is called Brittany and the longer he talks to her, the more her means of transportation seems … oddly fitting. “His name is Peter,” she says. “He's half Pegasus and half Unicorn. Lord Tubbington is friends with his family, that's how we met.” 

Blaine has no idea who Lord Tubbington is, but he can already tell that it's probably best to just accept the things Brittany says. He leads her downstairs and goes back to making sandwiches.

“A lot of your friends showed up,” Blaine says as Kurt joins him in the kitchen.

“Yeah.” Kurt looks overwhelmed, tired, and a little surprised at the turnout, honestly.

Blaine steps in and wraps his arms around him and Kurt sinks into the embrace, lets Blaine hold him. “They all care about you,” Blaine says.

“I care about _you_ ,” Kurt mumbles into his shoulder. “Have I thanked you yet for all of this?”

“Yes, you have. And I'm not even doing anything,” Blaine protests.

“You're here for me,” Kurt says, pulling back far enough to meet his eyes. “That's – everything, Blaine. I can't even tell you what that means to me.”

He kisses him in response and holds him tighter. “It's worth it,” he says. “I met a legendary animal on the roof a few minutes ago.”

“Oh, you've met Peter,” Kurt says. “If you're nice to him he'll let you pet him.”

Blaine pulls back. “Wait. Seriously? I can pet a winged unicorn? What do I have to do?”

Kurt looks at him and smiles, it's the smallest smile and it doesn't quite erase the tiredness from his expression, but it's still real. “I'm pretty sure you just have to be you,” Kurt says and kisses the tip of his nose. “That's gonna be enough.”

**

Kurt's friend Rachel comes back from L.A. for this. She's already talking to Mercedes, who brought Sam because it's his apartment too and because he knows anyway. And Blaine knows he'll want to help once the excitement about being in a room full of mages has worn off. 

Blaine has already heard of Elliott, and now he gets to meet him when he suddenly materializes in the middle of Blaine's living room. 

Next arrives a girl named Tina who starts hugging Kurt before she's even fully materialized and starts rattling off a million ideas she already has – Blaine likes her immediately. 

He loses track of everyone's names right around then, but there's a guy named Mike, another one named Artie who parks his wheelchair in a corner upon arrival and floats himself over to the couch. Then there's Quinn, and last of all two men show up who seem to be Rachel's fathers, from the looks of it.

“This should be everyone now,” Kurt says, eyes surveying the room from where he's standing in the kitchen doorway, still looking pale, but also really determined.

“Is it enough?” Blaine wants to know. “Can you – defeat him? With all of them to help you?”

Kurt doesn't answer for a long minute, then shakes his head. “I'm not sure,” he says. “It won't be easy. And it's still their choice if they're going along with it or not. They don't have to. I can't make them. And it is a lot to ask, even of your friends.”

Blaine nods and takes Kurt's hand, squeezes his fingers, and thinks in the direction of the people assembled in that room, _don't you_ dare _leave him_. They have to help Kurt. This has to work. There really is no alternative, as he's come to understand.

**

They all settle down eventually, scattered across the floor on pillows or in Brittany's case on something that she conjured up out of thin air and that looks like a cloud – Blaine's not quite sure what her magic is. With everyone else, he's been keeping himself busy trying to figure it out and he thinks a lot of them are actually voice mages. At least Rachel is, and so is Tina, Mercedes, of course, Elliott, Artie, and Rachel's dads. He's not sure about Quinn. It might be air. Mike's is also either air or water.

It makes sense to have a lot of voice mages here – Blaine knows Kurt knows most of them from his old glee club. He thinks it's very nice that they all stayed friends. It probably helps that most of them are from the same coven.

Kurt looks nervous – a lot depends on whether or not these people are willing to help him. Blaine kisses his cheek as he straightens his shoulders and prepares to speak to them, explain why he needs them.

“You can do this,” he whispers. “They're all here because they want to help, or they wouldn't have come so quickly.”

Kurt nods and takes a few measured breaths before walking straight into the living room to stand before them all, and starts explaining why they're here.

Blaine knows how much he hates asking for favors – but this one isn't for him. Blaine also knows Kurt will do whatever he has to do to save his father, and to make sure that no one gets hurt in the process.

While Kurt tells them everything, Sam joins Blaine in the kitchen doorway, arms crossed, a worried expression on his face.

“Dude,” he says, “this is bad, isn't it? Like, really bad.”

Blaine nods. “It is. I don't know how to help him.”

“Sucks that we're not mages. I want to help him too.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says. “Also, you know. For being cool with everyone taking over our living room like this.”

Sam grins at him. “Are you kidding? This is amazing. I'd be upset if they were meeting anywhere else. Did you see the unicorn on the roof?”

“Half Pegasus, half unicorn.”

Sam nods. “I asked Mercedes what they're called but she says he's the first of his kind. I think they should call them Pegacorn. Or Unisus?”

Blaine smiles and shakes his head. “Come on,” he says. “You can help me finish making breakfast for everyone.”

Sam nods and follows him back into the kitchen.

**

Kurt talks to them all morning, sometimes interrupted by questions, sometimes listening to someone's ideas. They don't really seem to be getting anywhere, Blaine thinks.

He's passed around plates of sandwiches, made several pots of coffee, and now he's sitting between them on the floor, listening, trying to follow their conversation.

“We still have to get past the guard spells first,” Rachel points out again. “If we can't figure out how to do that then there's no point coming up with a plan to get your dad out.”

“I know,” Kurt says, runs a hand through his hair. “I've thought about it a lot but -”

“Do they use passwords for the guard spells?” Mike wants to know. “Or blood recognition?”

Kurt grimaces. “My guess would be blood. Family only, and for special occasions you get in by invitation? We know they throw big parties, so there must be a sort of invite charm to get past the guards.”

“Then how do we get invited in?” Tina asks.

“Wouldn't it be easier to find a way around the spells?” Mercedes suggests. “I really don't think the Claringtons are going to just invite us in if we knock on the front door.”

“Then we don't knock,” Brittany says, shrugs. “They have a party tomorrow night don't they?”

Kurt tilts his head at her. “They do?”

She shrugs. “Sure. They do every year. For the old Clarington's birthday.”

“The grandfather?” Kurt asks. “He's still alive? Isn't he -”

“He's 107 years old. Well, 108 tomorrow,” Brittany says, and takes a calm sip of coffee. “Doesn't seem to stop him from having birthday parties.”

“But how does that help us?” Kurt asks.

Brittany rolls her eyes like it's obvious. “I got an invite,” she says. “I've been giving his youngest brother dancing lessons. I think he likes me.”

“If there's a spell on it,” Tina says suddenly excited, “we can copy it. Maybe.”

“That might work,” Mercedes agrees.

Blaine looks at Kurt, for the first time since last night seeing something like hope in his eyes.

“Do you have the invite with you, Britt?” Kurt asks, and Brittany reaches into her purse and pulls out an expensive looking card that she hands to him.

Kurt holds it in careful fingers, stares at it wide-eyed. “Can we make this work?” he asks. “Can we -”

“I, ah,” one of Rachel's dads speaks up, lifting a hand, “might have some experience with that kind of magic. If you wouldn't mind letting me have a go at it -?”

Kurt nods gratefully, and hands the card over to him. “If this works,” he says, “all we need is a plan to get my dad out.”

“And if possible mute Hunter's magic in the process,” Mercedes reminds him. “So that he can't come after us.”

“Right,” Kurt says.

“If we get Burt out,” Rachel's other dad says, “we need to call the coven together straight away once we've made our escape. The Claringtons will waste no time coming after us, even if Hunter won't if we temporarily mute his powers. But we can't mute the entire clan at once. So having Burt as a witness, hopefully with traces of their magic still all over him – that's our best shot at finally getting the rest of the coven to take action against the Claringtons. They'll _have_ to put a ban on them, if there's undeniable proof at last.”

“You think they'll be expelled from the coven?” Rachel asks. “I thought that stuff only happened in legends.”

“If we have proof, they have no choice anymore,” Quinn says. “We should call out to the neighboring covens as well once we've made it out. Make it public in the community. To be on the safe side.”

Kurt nods. “I agree. We have to move fast, and we have to be quiet, but once we're out we _need_ the coven. If they don't do something now, stuff like this is just going to keep happening. Hunter won't quit. We need to put a stop to it.”

“But our priority is still your father,” Mike says. “First of all we have to get him out. And we still need a plan for that.”

“Hunter will have some sort of alarm charms around wherever he keeps him,” Tina says, bites her lip. “Which will make it easy to trace the location, but also more difficult to get through to him unnoticed. There'll be no way around a confrontation with Hunter. We're going to have to fight him.”

“Yeah,” Kurt says, sighs. “And I still don't have any idea how we can stop him. Getting in almost seems like the easy part.”

“We'll figure it out,” one of Rachel's dads says. “That's why we're here.”

Kurt's lips twitch with the hint of a smile. His eyes meet Blaine's, and Blaine looks back at him, scoots across the floor to sit next to him and take his hand. He knows they aren't even halfway there yet, but at least they seem to be making progress. Finally. And there are so many people here to help. This has to work, right?

He really doesn't want to think about the alternative.


	13. moon

It's evening by the time they finally seem to be coming up with a plan – which is good, since they absolutely need to move quickly if they want to make use of the Clarington's party as a distraction. But there are so many details, so many things that need to be just right. So many things that could go wrong. Any flaw in the plan means serious danger for everyone involved.

Blaine has been keeping busy providing people with drinks and making a few suggestions when he thought he might be able to help – most of all he's been doing a lot of sitting, and he's starting to feel a little antsy, a little stiff. During a lull in the conversation he struggles to get up off the floor, unfolding his limbs carefully, stretches his back.

Kurt looks up at him questioningly, and Blaine bends down, kisses the top of his head. “I'm just going to get some air,” he says. “I'll be right back, okay?”

Kurt smiles up at him and nods. “Okay.”

Blaine threads his way through the mages scattered throughout his tiny apartment and slips out the door into the hallway. He considers where he wants to go, finally simply starts climbing the stairs for the roof. He does want some air, but more than that he just wants some quiet. Up there is his best option. His head is buzzing from all the noise in his living room, all the information, all the details he did his best to keep track of. Apparently, there's a lot more to magic than he ever thought possible.

It's dark when he pushes open the dented metal door and steps out onto the roof. It's dark and it's _really_ cold, and he forgot to bring a jacket. 

For a minute he thinks about heading back downstairs to get it and maybe a blanket too, but decides against it. He'll be fine for a little while, and he doesn't feel like climbing all those stairs again.

Wrapping his arms around himself against the crisp night air, he takes a few steps, looks up at the moon that's almost full. The noises of the city are still all around him, they never disappear, but after the constant hum and chatter in his living room for more than nine straight hours now, it almost feels like being deaf for a moment, the sudden absence of voices a little jarring but then very, very welcome.

He wonders how Kurt is doing with all of this. They haven't had a minute to really talk all day and Blaine just hopes he's really doing okay – even now that they have help, it's still just a lot. He wishes he could talk to him. He also really, really wishes he had brought a jacket, because it is _freezing_ up here.

“I thought I might find you here,” Kurt's voice speaks up behind him and Blaine twirls around to see his boyfriend standing there, bundled up in a thick coat, Blaine's jacket over one arm and a blanket over the other.

“Hey,” Blaine says, can't hold back the smile as he accepts the jacket Kurt hands him, slipping into it quickly. “Thanks for this.”

“I figured you might be cold by now,” Kurt says.

“Yeah.” Blaine looks at him, really looks. He seems tired, but the panicked fear from last night is gone from his eyes. Having his friends here has helped, obviously. “How are you feeling?”

Kurt shrugs, steps closer to wrap his arms around Blaine's shoulders and pull him into a firm hug. “Better,” he says. “Tired, but – yeah. Better. Thanks.”

Blaine slides his arms around Kurt's waist, breathes in the familiar scent of him. “Do you think we can do it? Defeat Hunter?”

Kurt pulls back a little, frowns at him. “...We?”

Blaine lifts his shoulders in a half-shrug. “Yeah. Of course _we_.”

“Blaine -” Kurt hesitates. “When we go. Um. You have to stay here.”

Blaine shakes his head determinedly. “No. No way. I'm coming with you.”

“You can't,” Kurt says. “That's – No. You can't.”

“Yes, I can,” Blaine disagrees. “I already spoke to Brittany earlier. I know I can't teleport with the rest of you guys, but she'll give me a ride on her Pegasus. Unicorn. Whatever. Peter. He'll take me there.”

“No,” Kurt insists. “That's – Blaine, we're going to defeat Hunter with a spell, with _magic_ , that's just – I know you want to help, and I appreciate it so much, but -”

“I know I'm not a mage,” Blaine says. “But I can be a resonator. Can't I? You told me all about how channeling your magic through a willing human body as a sort of echo can make a spell stronger, I can -”

“This is not a small spell, Blaine,” Kurt interrupts him. “This is dangerous. Really dangerous. Even for us. It's really powerful magic. It's – it would take too much of your energy.”

Blaine bites his lip, not willing to give up so easily. “How much?”

Kurt sighs. “ _Too_ much. More than I'm willing to risk.”

“Not enough to kill me?”

“I – Blaine, I -”

“Because if it's just gonna give me a headache and make me tired for a few days, then I still want to do it.”

“You can't,” Kurt says again. “Please. _Please_ try to understand this, Blaine. I can't risk it. I can't risk – you. Please. When we do magic, if it gets too much for us … we know. We can stop before we do damage to ourselves. But we wouldn't be able to tell when it gets too much for you, and you wouldn't be able to stop us. We'd just be draining you, and draining you even more, and using up all of your life energy until there was none left. So, no. You really _can't_. Because if you do -”

“You might accidentally kill me.” Blaine sighs. “Okay. I get it. So can I come with you anyway?”

“Blaine -”

“You're going to go off to fight some evil mage, and you really expect me to sit here and wait and _hope_ that you'll come back, even if I could _help_ if I came with you?”

“Yes,” Kurt says, and looks a little desperate. “That's exactly what I need you to do. I need to know that you're here and that you're safe and that you'll still be here when I get back, because I _need_ that, Blaine, okay? I -” He sucks in a deep breath, rests their foreheads together. “Please. I know it's not what you want, but -”

“I want to go with you,” Blaine says. “I can't let you go off alone, you know I can't.”

“It's really dangerous, Blaine.”

“It's really dangerous for you too,” he says. “And it's not just a mage issue, is it? You said it yourself. Every one of your friends down there said it over and over again. If no one stops Hunter, he'll hurt so many people. Non-magical people too.”

“Yes, but -”

“So we need to get your dad out. We need this to be a success. So he can be a witness for the other families of the coven and they'll finally take action against the Clarington clan.”

“We just don't need to risk more lives in the process,” Kurt says.

Blaine hesitates, then lets his shoulders slump. “Okay,” he says. “Okay. I don't want to stress you out even more. I'm sorry. I'll – I'm sorry.” He's not done arguing his point. There is no way he's going to stay behind. But it's been a long day for all of them and they have another day before they need to go. He'll change Kurt's mind before then.

“Don't apologize,” Kurt says and smiles at him. “You have no idea how much it means to me that you care so much.”

“You have a whole room full of people downstairs who care, Kurt,” Blaine reminds him, and kisses the side of his nose.

Kurt blushes, lowers his eyes. “I know. But you're – It means a lot, that _you_ care. I – you're important to me. You know that, right?”

“Of course,” Blaine says, tightens his arms around him. “Kurt, of course I know. And believe me, the feeling is absolutely mutual.”

For a moment, it looks as if Kurt wants to say something, but then he kisses him instead. Blaine is fine with that.

They wrap themselves in the blanket Kurt brought and stay on the roof for another half hour, looking up at the moon and not saying much, cuddled up close against each other.

It's almost peaceful. A beautiful, crisp late autumn night, cuddling on a rooftop with his lovely boyfriend.

Blaine knows it's only the calm before the storm.


	14. number

It's close to midnight when people start going to bed – Mercedes heads back to her apartment with Sam and takes Quinn, Mike and Tina with her. She tells Rachel's dads to take her room so they don't have to sleep on the floor. Rachel takes the couch (after spelling it slightly bigger and removing some of the lumps; Blaine kind of hopes she'll just leave it that way when she leaves), Elliott and Artie take the floor.

Blaine and Kurt let all of them use the bathroom first, busy themselves cleaning up around the apartment while their friends are getting ready for bed.

By the time they're in the bathroom, brushing their teeth side by side, Blaine's exhausted, and he can tell Kurt is as well from the way he leans against him, barely even managing to keep his head up.

Still, their eyes meet in the mirror and Blaine twitches a smile at him, and Kurt smiles back. He looks tired, there are dark circles under his eyes, tooth paste foam on his lips, hair sticking up at the front where it got wet when he washed his face. And Blaine thinks he's never seen anyone more beautiful in his life.

They cuddle up close to each other in bed; all Blaine wants is to hold him close, keep him safe, make him happy.

“Tomorrow,” Kurt says, traces a fingertip over Blaine's chest. “Tomorrow we have to -”

“I know,” Blaine whispers, catches Kurt's hand, lifts it to his mouth to kiss his palm. He's so scared for him. If only there was something he could do to _help_...

“It's gonna be okay,” Kurt says, quietly. “It's – it's all gonna be okay.”

“Yes, it is,” Blaine confirms, because it's the only thing that's allowed to happen. Nothing is allowed to go wrong. A thought occurs to him, and he closes his fingers around Kurt's. “How – if the house is protected by spells, is it also protected from non-magic people?”

Kurt nods, his cheek rubbing over Blaine's nipple as he does. “Of course. No one gets in without the family's invitation.”

“...Then how do the caterers get in? They'll have caterers, right? And – all the other staff who serves at those fancy parties?”

“Huh.” Kurt shrugs. “My best guess is that they lift the spell for non-magics for just the night. Sounds easier than admitting every single employee on their own. That could take forever.”

“Ah, okay. That makes sense.” He yawns, nuzzles his face into Kurt's hair. “Ugh. I'm so sleepy. It's been a long day.”

“Yeah, it has,” Kurt confirms. “Hey, Blaine?”

“Yes?”

“...Nothing. Just – goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Kurt.” He wants to say more, wants to use other words he hasn't had the courage to say to him yet, but – it's really late. They're really tired. Both of them. He'll tell him once they've won this. 

He needs a plan for it anyway.

**

Blaine doesn't sleep well, that night. He knows that Kurt doesn't either, at least not judging from the way he's tossing and turning all night long. 

They keep waking each other up accidentally, and Blaine wakes up all by himself a number of times, from more than one nightmare.

Around three in the morning he lies awake for almost half an hour, tries to make a list in his head of all the things he has to do tomorrow – and comes up empty. Or almost empty. It's just that he doesn't like what's on the agenda for tomorrow.

One: he has to help Kurt get ready. Two: he has to see him leave. And three: he has to sit and wait while everyone else is off saving Kurt's dad. 

Three things on his list. He wishes he were allowed to do more. He's not sure he's going to be able to handle it, sitting and waiting.

He's about to drift back to sleep when Kurt sucks in a breath and sits up in bed beside him, eyes wide.

“Honey?” Blaine asks, voice sleep-rough and tired. “What's wrong?”

“Sorry,” Kurt whispers. “Sorry. I – just a dream. It was just a dream.”

Blaine pulls him closer, tugs at his arm until Kurt lays his head on Blaine's shoulder, stuffs his face into the crook of his neck. His breath tickles Blaine's skin and he wraps his arms tightly around him, and maybe if he just doesn't let go, Kurt will have to take him with him tomorrow...

He really doesn't want to just sit and wait. He's not sure he even knows how to do that.

**

Morning arrives too quickly. Everyone starts showing up back at the apartment as Kurt and Blaine make breakfast together for everyone and Blaine keeps glancing at the clock above the kitchen door, willing time to slow the fuck down, he's not ready for any of this. He just … _isn't_. And he doesn't even have to do anything, it's not him who's going to be heading straight into danger, but in a way he thinks, that makes it all even worse.

The group has decided to leave at noon and wait for nightfall back at Kurt's house in Lima – it will give them enough time to get back the energy the teleport over a distance that long will cost them.

“You're not taking Peter?” Blaine asks Brittany.

She shakes her head. “I'll travel with the others. He likes it on your roof, so he's gonna stay there for a while. I'll call for him once we're done.”

“How is he gonna know where to go?”

Brittany shrugs. “He always knows where I am. He'll be there within a few hours or so. That's why I usually travel by Pegasus – they're really fast and have excellent sense of direction. Also, they tell good bedtime stories on longer journeys.”

Blaine nods, already distracted, turns his head to look for Kurt. He's just a few steps away and Blaine follows after him, slips his hand into Kurt's again, tries not to count down the minutes. It's difficult not to.

“Are you okay?” Kurt asks him, looking worried.

Blaine smiles and nods because he doesn't want to add any more stress to Kurt's day, it shouldn't be Kurt who's worrying about him. So he strokes the back of his hand with his thumb, bumps their shoulders together. “Of course. Are you?”

Kurt kisses him on the lips instead of answering and Blaine cups the back of his neck, keeps him in place for a moment longer, their mouths pressed together a little off-center, his nose smushed up against Kurt's cheek. 

It's perfect. It hurts to pull back, but they're still in a room full of people and time is running out.

He still hasn't found a way to convince Kurt to let him come along. He still hasn't found a way to be okay with staying behind either.

What is he even supposed to be doing once they leave? Study? Go for coffee with Sam? Sit on the couch and watch TV while his boyfriend is out there risking his life trying to defeat an evil mage?

The morning goes by too fast, something must be wrong with time, the hands on the clock mercilessly moving closer to the hated 12, as much as Blaine wishes they would just … stop. At noon, they'll leave. And Blaine still hasn't changed Kurt's mind.

“I'll stay in the background,” he says, one more attempt at arguing his case, convincing Kurt that he needs to come along. “I won't even get involved. Just please don't leave me here.”

“I'll call you the minute we're safe,” Kurt promises. “And I'll be back here in time for finals.”

Blaine sighs and hugs him and looks at the clock. 

Another minute closer to noon.

He can't stop time, as much as he wants to.

All he can do is hold him as long as he can and then … let go.


	15. ocean

Kurt kisses him before they leave. They're in Blaine's room, just a moment away from all of Kurt's friends, a moment to themselves before – well. _Before._

Blaine clings to him, tries to calm the thundering beat of his heart, hopes Kurt won't notice. He doesn't want him to worry about leaving him behind. He wants Kurt focused on what he's doing, so he'll come back to him.

But he still can't quite steady his breathing, can't keep his hands from trembling. 

Letting him go feels _wrong_ , he doesn't understand how he's expected to just let all of this happen while he's just sitting here doing nothing.

“Please be safe,” he says, voice only a little choked.

“I'll be back before you know it,” Kurt promises, his own voice a little rough, a little shaky.

Blaine snorts out a laugh and squeezes him tighter – they both know it's a lie. Even if everything goes completely according to plan, it'll be _days_ before Kurt will be able to come back. If they get his father out, he'll want to stay with him for a while, make sure he's okay.

“Call me,” Blaine pleads, not for the first time. “As soon as you can.”

“Of course I will,” Kurt promises.

_I love you_ , Blaine thinks, desperately. He doesn't say it. He can't. He doesn't want Kurt to think he only said it because he's about to do something dangerous. What he feels has nothing to do with fear, even if he is afraid. What he feels has everything to do with all the things he wants to happen after this is done, after Kurt comes back to him.

He has so many plans. So many things he wants to do with him, so many adventures, less dangerous than this, but still so exciting. 

He wants them to be boyfriends, to go on dates, to kiss (a lot), to stay over at each other's places, whenever they can. 

Maybe a year or so down the road they could start thinking about finding a place where they can live together. Blaine thinks he's going to be the one who'll just blurt it out, that he wants that, and Kurt will look shocked, and then laugh, and tell him he's been thinking about asking him the same thing over dinner that night. 

He wants them to go to sleep in the same bed every night. He wants years of walking down the streets hand in hand, leaving little notes for each other stuck to the fridge, bickering about whose turn it is to take out the trash. _Decades_ of it. An eternity, if they can have it.

He just wants Kurt. It's all he wants, everything he wants.

“It's going to be okay,” he says in a firm voice, making himself sound sure about it because Kurt is already the bravest person he knows, but if he needs some extra courage today, he can have all of Blaine's. He'll give it to him. He'll give him whatever he needs. “You're prepared. You have all of your friends. It's going to be okay.”

“I can't let him have my voice,” Kurt says, the same thing he's been repeating over and over since that night – just two nights ago. It's been less than two days since the world fell into chaos, Blaine thinks. It seems so much longer. “I can't let him hurt my dad.”

Blaine nods and places a gentle kiss to the soft skin just underneath his left eye.

It's not fucking fair, he thinks. It's not fair that all of this is resting on Kurt and his friends. Some evil douchebag sets out to gain power and hurt people just because he _can_ – and Kurt and his friends have to stop him. It's not fucking fair. Just because Kurt wouldn't give up his voice voluntarily – the entire source of his power, the essence of his magic – some spoiled rich kid hurts other people to get what he wants anyway.

“Please come back to me,” he whispers.

Kurt hugs him tighter, buries his face in Blaine's curls that he hasn't bothered taming today. “It's going to be okay,” Kurt says, repeating Blaine's words back to him.

Blaine has no choice but to believe him.

**

He watches them disappear. They form a circle, hold hands, and then they're just – gone. There's no flash of light, no sound. Nothing _spectacular_. They're just – there one minute and then gone the next, as if they'd never even been here at all.

Quiet sinks over the room like a heavy blanket, the complete absence of sound almost suffocating, all of a sudden. His tiny apartment seems huge, now that it's empty, void of sound, of the constant chatter that a large group of people always seems to produce.

Blaine stands there and feels tiny, lost, alone, like he's been shipwrecked in the middle of a vast ocean, adrift in an endless sea of nothingness.

Only Sam is still there, standing on the opposite side of the room, arms at his side, looking – helpless. Just as lost as Blaine feels.

“What now?” Sam asks.

Blaine shrugs his shoulders. “Now we wait.”

**

It's not easy, waiting.

Just as the morning seemed to fly by, time suddenly seems to be standing still now that everyone is gone.

Blaine still keeps watching the clock, but the hands don't seem to be moving at all anymore.

He can't do anything, can't even sit down, can't imagine just going back to any sort of normal routine while Kurt is – is … He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, walks from the living room into the kitchen and back again, aimless, not sure what he's supposed to be doing.

There's not even any washing up to take care of; Mike and Artie spelled all the dishes clean before they left on their mission. Blaine appreciates the gesture, but he almost wishes they hadn't, because at least it would have been something productive for him to do, something to occupy his hands if not his thoughts, something distracting that doesn't actually require him to pay attention.

All he feels is the vast expanse of distance between himself and the place he _knows_ he's meant to be right now – it's _wrong_ that they left him behind, he's supposed to be with Kurt, he's supposed to be _helping_. Or if he really can't help, he's at least supposed to be there with him, because being here without him makes no sense whatsoever.

“Dude, you have to stop pacing,” Sam says. “It's making me nervous.”

Blaine stops, blinks, wraps his arms around his torso. And he remembers: he's not the only one who has a loved one out there doing something really dangerous right now. Sam looks pale, worried, like he hasn't slept in days. Which he probably hasn't.

“They're going to be okay,” Blaine says. “I know they will be. They have to be.”

“I know,” Sam says, but it doesn't come out very convincing.

**

“What do you think how long it'll take?” Sam asks. He's the one pacing the living room now while Blaine perches on the armrest of the couch.

Blaine sighs. “I wish I knew. They're not even going in before nightfall.”

“Yeah, but it gets dark so early this time of year,” Sam says. “What does nightfall even _mean_?”

“Kurt said not before seven,” Blaine says. “But I have no idea when they'll be likely to get out again. If they get through the guard spells – they have to find Kurt's dad, they have to get him out, and probably take Hunter out in the process, there's probably going to be at least _some_ kind of a fight … I really have no idea. I don't think we'll be hearing from them before midnight.”

Sam checks his watch, frowns. “It's two in the afternoon. What are we gonna do until then?”

Blaine shrugs. “I wish I knew.”

**

Another hours ticks by. And another one. They don't really do anything. They sit. They walk aimlessly around the apartment. Sam makes coffee. Blaine straightens up some things around the living room. He fluffs up the throw pillows on the couch, makes a neat stack of the magazines on the coffee table, makes himself a cup of tea and then gives it to Sam instead because he's not even thirsty. He checks his watch. He checks it again. He makes sure his cell phone isn't on silent. If Kurt calls, he needs to hear it.

“This sucks,” Sam says, as four in the afternoon passes and it's been four hours since everyone left and they have literally no idea what's happening, what their friends are doing right now.

“I know,” Blaine says.

They are so far away. So very far. And there's nothing they can do about it.

**

It's around six-thirty that they both start getting antsy.

“We should have gone with them,” Blaine says.

“I know.” Sam nods. “Mercedes said we couldn't.”

“Kurt said the same thing. But -”

“We couldn't have helped anyway.”

“We could have, though,” Blaine says, and tells Sam everything Kurt told him about resonating magic through non-magic people.

“They could have done that with us?” Sam asks. “Why didn't they want to?”

“Because it's dangerous. For us. If they use up too much of our energy, we can die. And they can't tell how much is too much for us, not like they can with their own magic. They can't feel what we feel.”

“But what if they fail now because they're missing just a tiny bit of magic?” Sam asks. “What if it's just a tiny spark missing and we could have given them that?”

Blaine bites his lip and thinks and thinks and thinks … “I wish I had pushed harder. To make him take me with him. I wish -”

“We could still go,” Sam says.

Blaine's head snaps up. “No, we can't.”

“Yes, actually we can.”

“... _How_? They're in Lima. In _Ohio_. We're in New York. We'll never get there in time.”

Sam shrugs. “We have a flying unicorn up on the roof, don't we?”

Blaine gasps. “Peter! I forgot about him!”

“Brittany told me he once crossed the entire Atlantic in less than two hours.”

“Can we? I mean – this is insane, isn't it?”

Sam shakes his head. “We don't have to burst into the middle of the fight. We don't want to distract them. We could just – I don't know, go to Kurt's house. Wait for them there. We can do that, right? We'd know right away if something went wrong. We'd be -”

“- closer to them,” Blaine finishes his sentence. “Yes. Yes, you're right.”

Sam is already reaching for his jacket, grabs Blaine's off the hook by the door as well and tosses it in his general direction. “Get dressed,” he says. “We have to find the unicorn.”

“He's half Pegasus.”

“Whatever. As long as he can fly us there I wouldn't care if he was half goat.” Sam yanks open the door, waves at him impatiently. “Come on already!”

Blaine slips into his jacket, stuffs his phone into the pocket, and hurries after Sam out into the hall, heading straight for the roof.


	16. passion

The wind is icy tonight and it's dark up on the roof, but Blaine spots the shiny-white coat of the Pegasus-unicorn immediately. He's standing at the edge of the building, elegant head raised, looking like he's watching over all of New York while the city bustles on below them.

“Do you think he's going to take us?” Sam asks.

Blaine shrugs. “Let's ask him.”

“What if he says no?”

“We'll ask again,” Blaine decides. “Until he understands how much we want this. Come on.”

They walk across the roof, Peter turning his head to watch them approaching, looking mildly curious.

“Hey, buddy,” Blaine says, reaching out a hand for him, pauses, unsure how to proceed. Is it okay to touch him? Kurt said Brittany would let him pet him, but they never got around to that – how does a unicorn (or a Pegasus) feel about being touched?

Peter makes it easy for him by turning towards them fully, nudging his nose gently under Blaine's palm.

“Cool,” Sam breathes behind him.

“Um,” Blaine says, pauses, carefully pets Peter's head. “Could you – uh. I – It's about -” he breaks off, looks to Sam for help. “What do I say to him?”

Sam shrugs. “I don't know. Uh -” He looks at the animal, ducks his head a little as if to catch his eyes. “Um. Hi. I'm Sam. I'm a friend of Brittany's. So is Blaine here. You know Brittany, right?”

Peter's ears flick at the mention of the name and Blaine is sure he sees a glint of recognition in his eyes. He looks more attentive, at least.

He clears his throat, hopes the animal can understand him. “We, uh, we think that she and her friends – they are doing something really dangerous and we want to help them. I mean, we can't really help, but we just want to be with them. Sort of. Or … just check on them. Be there for them if they need anything. Afterwards. So we have to find them. Do you understand?”

Peter tilts his head a little as if to say _do you think I'm an idiot_? The gesture reminds Blaine of Kurt, just a bit, and the little stab he feels at the thought is all the courage he needs to carry on.

“Look, we know we're not really good for anything, but they're our friends, and we can't just let them do this without at least trying to be there for them. You get that, don't you? Brittany said unicorns respond to emotions. Can you – can you feel what we're feeling right now? What we want?”

Peter just looks at him, lowers his head a bit as if he's listening.

“We really want to be with our friends,” Sam jumps in. “Even if we can't do anything. They're important to us and we just want to make sure they're okay. We were hoping you could help us.”

“We feel really strongly about this,” Blaine adds. “And, okay, maybe it's not the _best_ idea, but we're just – do you have a partner, a girlfriend? Or a boyfriend? Someone you're really passionate about?”

“Because we feel really strongly that we need to be with them,” Sam helps, and Blaine nods.

“So. Can you take us to them? Please?” he adds, because he thinks the unicorn part of Peter probably appreciates politeness and because, well, he appreciates politeness himself.

Peter stares at him, and Blaine waits. He's not exactly sure what's supposed to happen next. How do you actually communicate with a legendary animal? Because if he needs some sort of magical telepathy for this then they have a problem. He hopes the desire in his heart, the passionate longing to be with the others, specifically Kurt, will be enough to persuade their new friend.

“What's he saying?” Sam asks.

Blaine huffs out a breath. “I'm hearing and seeing exactly the same thing as you, Sam. I have no idea.”

“Oh. Right.”

“Yeah.”

“So – what do we do now?”

Blaine shrugs, addresses Peter again, makes his voice as gentle as he can manage. “Look, if you're trying to tell me something, I don't understand it. I'm really very sorry, but I have no magic of any kind. Can you – give me some sort of a sign? Something that even someone like me can understand?”

Peter snorts, closes his eyes for a long moment. It's such a clear sign of exasperation, Blaine almost has to laugh, except for the fact that he's really not in the mood.

“I'm really sorry,” he says again.

Peter unfolds his wings and steps to the side.

“Is he -” Sam frowns. “Is he leaving?”

Blaine shakes his head. “No idea.”

Peter jerks his head upwards, blinks at them.

“He's trying to tell us something,” Blaine says.

Peter snorts again, then steps right into Blaine's personal space and shoves him sideways with a nudge of his head.

“I think he wants you to hop on,” Sam says, eyes wide.

“Are you sure? He could also be telling me to leave him alone.”

“Dude,” Sam says, “just try it. Go on.”

Blaine takes a deep breath, then puts his hands on top of Peter's back. Which is really smooth and has absolutely nothing for him to hold onto. “Uh,” she says. “How do I get up? I didn't exactly bring a stepladder.”

“Hold on.” Sam hurries over, folds his hands for Blaine to step into. “Up you go.”

“Oh, okay. Thanks.” Blaine lets Sam give him a boost, swings a leg over Peter's back, and settles there on his back, heart beating hard in his chest. It feels – weird, being up here. “Come on.” He extends a hand down for Sam to help him up too, and Sam swings up behind him, Peter standing patiently still through the whole process.

“Now what?” Sam asks.

Blaine shrugs. “I d-”

Before he can finish his sentence, Peter is flapping his huge wings and suddenly the world tilts up and backwards as they rise up into the air at rapid speed; it's all Blaine can do to bury his hands in Peter's mane and hold on as tightly as he dares.

Sam's clinging to him with both arms almost uncomfortably tight around Blaine's waist and Peter is still rising, gathering speed.

The wind is colder the higher they're flying, getting sharper as they get faster and faster. Already the lights of New York are getting smaller and then they're gathering so much speed it all turns into a blur beneath them.

Blaine can't speak, can barely draw in a deep enough breath, has to close his eyes against the wind that's rushing at him like tiny ice crystals in a winter storm.

He just hopes Peter understood where they were intending to go. This is way too uncomfortable to merely be going for a quick trip around the block.

**

He doesn't know how long they've been in the air, but he does regret not bringing gloves at this point because his fingers are getting numb even buried deep into the Pegasus-unicorn's thick mane. His face hurts with the cold and every time he risks opening his eyes all he sees is clouds, before the wind brings tears to his eyes and he quickly squeezes them shut again. He has a feeling they're traveling fast. _Really_ fast.

At least Peter is just sort of gliding now, which is preferable to the wing-flapping – there were a few close calls when Blaine almost fell off at the start, holding on being made even more difficult by Sam who's clinging to him from behind.

But as uncomfortable as it, he's glad that Sam's here with him. At least his back is warm, and also it makes the entire insanity of this trip a little more bearable, having a friend here with him.

Because – after the past few days and really after Kurt showing him magic for the first time he has become a lot more open-minded and a lot less likely to freak out when the world yet again presents him with previously unimaginable experiences. But still. He's flying higher than the clouds on the back of an animal that just a day ago he didn't even know _existed_ – and he thinks maybe he should be freaking out. Maybe he should be feeling a lot more not okay with this. But all he's really worried about right now is Kurt, and falling off and plummeting to his death. Mostly Kurt, though.

The ever-same monotony of wind rushing in his ears and bitter cold biting at his skin almost lulls him into a half-sleep eventually. His fingers are hurting from the cold and the wind is too loud to try talking to Sam. There is nothing to see up here except clouds and nothing to do except try not to fall, and he just starts drifting after a while, still anxious, but also completely powerless to do anything other than wait.

He's shocked out of it when, after what feels like days up in the clouds, all of a sudden Peter tips forward into a steep descent, head low, heading straight down through the clouds and out into the open air again.

Blaine more feels than hears himself letting out an undignified little shriek, feels Sam's arms tightening around his middle almost painfully.

Apparently, wherever Peter has decided to take them, they have arrived.

Going up was bumpy and a bit uncomfortable, but going down is more difficult – his arms and legs are stiff with cold and being able to see the ground approaching rather rapidly gives him an unsettling feeling of vertigo, and also, he's beginning to slide forward over the smooth coat of Peter's back, down toward his neck. 

He can't close his eyes again even though the wind hurts – he stares wide-eyed at the ground that's still so incredibly far away, and tries to breathe, tries not to panic. It's not much use, really. He's panicking anyway, still slipping, struggling to get a tighter grip. 

His legs clamp down behind Peter's shoulders as hard as he can manage, fingers clenching in his mane that suddenly feels way too slippery between his fingers. Sam's weight from behind is pushing him forward and Blaine does his best to tighten his muscles in a vise-like grip, to hold on, to not slide down over Peter's neck and drop into a free fall from all this height.

Fortunately, the rapid plunge only lasts for about a minute before Peter starts slowing down at last, spreads his wings wide, levels with the ground again to float down at a more comfortable pace.

Blaine breathes deeply, doesn't unclench his legs or fingers yet, but he does take a better look at the ground they are approaching.

It's a town. He doesn't know which one. It occurs to him that they only ever told Peter that they wanted to find Brittany and help her, not that they meant to go to Kurt's house. But aside from the fact that Blaine has no idea what Lima even looks like, he couldn't tell what town they were approaching from up here anyway.

“Is that Lima?” Sam says directly into his ear and Blaine jumps a little.

“Jeez,” he exclaims. “Don't scare me like that!”

“Sorry.”

“I have no idea. What time is it even? Are they even still going to be in Lima?”

“I guess we'll see,” Sam says, and Blaine nods.

The house that comes into view, the one they're clearly heading for – he can tell from the start that this is not Kurt's place. 

It's – sort of a mansion. It looks like a castle. Or, well, at least it's big. _Huge_. The kind of place that comes with an east wing and a drawing room. The backyard is not a backyard at all. It's a park, with winding paths and a fountain and a gazebo and a pond and what looks like stables at the far end of it, and those are just the things Blaine can see at first glance as they fly over the roof.

“This is not Kurt's place, is it?” Sam asks, worried.

Blaine shakes his head. “I don't think so.”

Peter sails over the roof, descends, then sort of jolts up again, shakes his head in distress before lowering again, jerking up once again. 

He seems to give up at that point, makes a sharp turn that has Blaine yelping out and clenching his fingers in the mane again before he can slide too far off to the side. Peter rises, flies back over the park and heads for the little field just beyond the edge of it.

“He can't land on the house,” Blaine says, his suspicions confirmed. “It must be Hunter's place.”

“Because we told him to find Brittany,” Sam says.

“And they're already here.”

“What do we do?” Sam asks.

“First of all,” Blaine suggests, “we let Peter land. And then – I don't know, I guess we give him new directions.” He shrugs.

“Or -” Sam says.

“What?”

“I mean, we're already here.”

“Yeah, but we can't _do_ anything, we can't stay.”

“This is a really huge place,” Sam says. “They don't even know where Kurt's dad is being kept. We can at least help them look.”

Blaine bites his lip. _If_ they're able to enter the grounds, that would probably mean there's no spell in place to repel them, and that would also mean no one would even be aware of them if they were to just take a look around, right? But -

“We can't,” he says. “What if we accidentally end up in danger and they have to rescue us? What if we get caught and then they get caught because of us? They had a plan. We're just going to screw it up for them if we head in there now.”

Peter lands softly on the grass beyond the Clarington's park and Blaine waits until Sam's jumped down, then swings one leg over and slides off himself, almost toppling over onto the grass, legs a little numb.

He checks his watch, nods his head. “One and a half hours. Magic is amazing. That's the fastest I have ever traveled between New York and Lima.”

Sam hums in agreement. “Pretty good way to travel too. Probably better in summer. I think I'm frozen now.”

“Yeah, me too.” Blaine sighs, shrugs. “So. We should probably – I don't know, find our way to Kurt's house, right?”

Sam turns to Peter, looks him straight in the eyes. “Yeah. So, uh, hi. Do you – Can you show us where Kurt lives? You know Kurt, right?”

Blaine turns away from them, watches the park just a few feet from them. He feels – at first he thought it was a residual sort of anxiety from the flight, but now it feels like it's increasing instead of going away. Behind him, Peter is shaking his head and huffing out huge breaths, sounding almost distressed.

“Hey, what's wrong, buddy?” Sam asks.

Blaine keeps looking at the park, can't shake this weird feeling like – like he needs to go in there.

“Blaine?” Sam asks. “Is it – I kind of feel like -”

Peter makes a jump forward, bouncing back as if repelled by an invisible barrier. He keeps throwing himself against it, again and again, looking almost frantic.

“Something is wrong,” Blaine says. “Do you think -”

“They need help,” Sam says. “It's -”

“Yeah.” Blaine nods. He still feels unsettled, scared. He thinks it's the unicorn. Somehow, he can feel it. He can - “Do you kind of feel like you're feeling what Peter is feeling?”

“Yeah,” Sam says. “Brittany said – she said it's telepathy. That – they're linked, her and Peter.”

“I couldn't hear him before,” Blaine says.

“Me either.” Sam takes a step forward. “Maybe it gets stronger the more he's feeling something?”

“They're in danger,” Blaine says, doesn't know how he knows. But _Peter_ knows. He can feel it. It's not a voice in his head, it's just – knowledge. It's not even a feeling. He _knows_. “Something is wrong.”

“I know,” Sam says. “I feel it too.”

Peter turns to them, walks toward Blaine and starts nudging him with his head, pushing him toward the park. He stops when Blaine's just at the edge of it, not pushing him over the line, just looking at him and Blaine had never known that unicorns could have a pleading expression in their eyes. But then, he'd never known a unicorn before. Or a Pegasus.

It's a burning feeling deep in his heart; he has to find them. Nothing else even matters anymore. Something is wrong and he _has_ to find them, any other course of action is simply impossible.

“We have to help them,” he says, and now he does think he might be crazy – he doesn't even know what to do once they find them. All he knows is that it's not really a choice anymore – his friends are in trouble and he's _right here_ , he can't just leave them.

“Let's, go,” Sam says, and grabs his hand before pulling him into the park.

The barrier lets them through without any problems.

“We'll find them,” Blaine promises Peter, and hurries off down the path that's winding away between two tall trees.


	17. question

They rush down the path through the darkness of the early night, deeper and deeper into the park, and they don't even really know where they are anymore, but then, they have know idea just where they're headed either.

Blaine just knows that they have to keep going, they have to keep pushing forward, somewhere here are Kurt and Mercedes and everyone else. He can't actually feel Peter's panic anymore now that they're in here, and the animal is out there, but he remembers what it felt like. And he knows that whatever is happening here, they need to hurry. 

He had hoped Peter could guide them, but the invisible barrier of the Clarington's guard spells must be cutting off the connection, no outside magic can come through into the protected area of the family's property.

“Where are we even?” Sam asks, sounding out of breath and a little panicked.

“I have no idea,” Blaine admits, stops in the middle of the path to thread his fingers through his hair, tugging at his own curls as impatience bubbles up in his chest, makes his skin buzz with urgency; they need to find them _now now now_ they need some answers and all they keep finding are more questions – where are they, where are their friends, what is even _wrong_. “We have to – Did you see anything when we were flying over? I just – there's no point just stumbling around here, we need a _plan_.”

Sam nods. “Big house is up in that direction,” he says, points to the left. “At least I'm pretty sure it was that way.”

“Yeah.” Blaine nods. “But I don't think we should go there, they won't be keeping Kurt's dad in the main house, not with a party going on, right? So … I – there was a gazebo, somewhere in the middle, but that's not -”

“There was a smaller thing down there somewhere,” Sam says, pointing ahead. “Looked like a pool house or something.”

Blaine nods. “And something that looked like stables somewhere to the other side of the main house.”

Sam bites his lip. “I guess – we should split up? Cover more ground?”

Blaine hesitates. More questions. More uncertainty, more decisions to make. “Are you sure?” He doesn't know if that's what he wants – this place is creepy as fuck and he doesn't like the idea of being on his own out here in the darkness in a strange place that belongs to the people who are currently holding his boyfriend's father hostage. On the other hand, they also need to hurry up already. Splitting up might be faster. So. It's probably not a bad idea after all.

“No,” Sam says. “I'm not. But I still think we should.”

“I agree,” Blaine says. “I'll take the stables.”

“I'll head for the shed-slash-pool house. Do you have your phone?”

“Yeah.”

“We'll call each other the minute we find them.”

“And if we don't find them, call anyway,” Blaine says. “In that case we need to find each other again and make a new plan.”

“Okay.”

“Okay.” Blaine draws in a deep breath, no time to lose, nods at Sam before turning on his heels and hurrying as fast as he dares down the dark path, heart hammering in his chest so hard he can barely hear the sound of his own breathing.

He turns around a corner past a few trees and the path beyond is lined by high hedges on each side, twisting and turning, built a bit like a maze. Blaine walks faster – he has to find them, he has to...

He feels it, as he turns the next corner, like the air getting heavier, the hairs on the back of his neck bristling. He thinks he can see a faint glow, just up ahead, just a few yards, barely visible over the top of the hedge – and then he hears it: voices.

They're not singing, this isn't the spell Kurt told him about, instead he hears … they're yelling, frantic, panicked? He runs, around a corner, left, right, another left – and there's the low, long building before him he remembers seeing from the air, and someone's standing in front of it in the wide-open door, nothing more than a silhouette against the contrast between dark night and bright magic. The figure has its hands held out shooting light at the people darting around the wide open space in front of the building.

Blaine's breath hitches – he can see Kurt, dodging a fireball, rolling over the ground and out of the way and throwing something glowing back at the dark figure – and there's Mike, firing off his own magic, and Mercedes, and Tina and – they're all here, they're here and they're fighting and this is not what Kurt said it would be like, this is not one spell, this is not them immobilizing their enemy before he can harm them, this is them being _attacked_.

Blaine knows they have to join together to do their spell. Apparently, they never even got the chance, and now they're scattered, running, dodging spells and curses and always just missing each other's hands every time they get close.

If they can't connect, they can't join their magic, and they won't be able to cast their spell. Blaine might not know a lot about magic, but he's been listening to all their planning; he remembers this part quite clearly. No connection, no spell that's powerful enough.

And suddenly he doesn't know what to do – his friends are throwing up defenses to protect themselves, charging forward, trying, trying, while he's just standing here, he can't do anything, he can't – he should call Sam. _No_. He should help them. But he can't, because he'd be killed. He can't – He gets out his phone, quickly types _found_ before something explodes and his finger slips, he accidentally hits the send button. He hopes Sam understands the message anyway because they're out of time, he can't – he has to -

“Elliott,” Kurt yells, and Blaine looks up, sees him stumble to his knees and grab for his friend's hand, Elliott meeting his eyes as they kneel beside each other in the dirt.

A connection.

It's like a dome of something shimmering expanding around them, and Elliott yells, “Mercedes,” at the same time Kurt shouts, “Tina!”

One by one they find each other, out in front of the stables, draw each other into the shimmering, expanding umbrella of magic, and Blaine stands and watches half-hidden behind the hedge, finds himself holding his breath – _please let this work, please let this work, please please please_...

Their hands joined, his friends build a crooked half-circle, their little misshapen dome of magic flickering as Hunter pelts it with curses, and then they start singing.

It's not a song, it's not anything Blaine's heard before. It's harmonies, all their voices just … fitting together, winding around each other, building a wall of sound – literally a wall, made of something bright and translucent that shoots toward the dark shape Blaine knows must be Hunter, collides with his magic with a sickening dissonant screech, like nails scraping over a blackboard.

_Please_ , Blaine thinks. _Please please please please please..._

Let it be enough. It has to be enough. It has to be, it just has to be, they have to -

Their wall of sound flickers, retreats, flickers some more. It grows stronger as their voices increase in power, but it's not enough, they're not getting any further, there's just – it's not enough. And Blaine can tell, he can just see it: they're going to lose. They don't have enough voices. It's not enough and he has no time to call Sam, he doesn't even know where Sam is, he needs to help them _right now_ , their magic is getting weaker, it's being pushed back, they're going to _lose..._

He doesn't know why Hunter is so much stronger than all of them together. He doesn't know why they can't defeat him, doesn't know how much magic they're missing to push their power that last little bit to get to him, he has only questions, only what he sees, and none of it is making much sense.

All he knows is that he cannot stand and watch while this is happening right in front of his eyes. He cannot stand and watch while Kurt is fighting, he can't, he _can't._

Before he has a chance to properly think about it he's already darting forward, pushing through the slight resistance of their magical aura – Quinn is closest to him, at the edge of their half-circle.

She jerks her head around as he grabs for her hand, looks startled, but then recognition flickers in her eyes. Her fingers close around his, her magic burning him as it shoots up his arm and spreads through his body, and he can feel it building, building, burning... 

Hers, and then not just hers, but _everyone's_. All of their magic. He feels it. All of it together and everyone's separately, everyone's feels different; Quinn's determined and strong, Elliott's warm and kind, Tina's energetic and resilient – and then there's Kurt. 

Kurt. He can feel him, in his soul; there's no word for it, at least not one he knows, he's just … _there_. He's there and they're not even holding hands, Blaine's touching Quinn who's touching Rachel who's touching Tina who's touching Kurt, but … he can still feel him, _him_ , the edges of his soul touching the edges of Blaine's, mingling together, and it's like – he didn't know he was that big inside, to contain all of this. It's amazing. He can feel the essence of him, and it's – he gasps, squeezes Quinn's hand in his own, and feels it flooding his body, every corner of it, from his toes up to his hair, _Kurt Kurt Kurt._

Building, Prickling, burning, filling him almost to bursting. Resonating in his soul, pushing at the edges of his boy, wanting out out out...

But that's okay, he knows what to do, he knows how to set it free.

He sings.

It's like flying, floating, being torn in a million directions at once, lighter than air and heavier than stone, and he can't see, can't feel anything but energy, power, _brightness_. He can feel it, he can feel it, it's flowing through him filling him bursting free of him setting the air on fire with warmth and _good_ and light and...

...the wall of magic blazes, sudden, tall, bright, so bright, almost blinding, the silvery-bright spell illuminating everything, stealing his breath, his sight, and then his thoughts just … switch off, heat spikes and something flashes before his eyes, something ripping inside of him, tearing, breaking open, and it's like, it's like … the energy is rushing out of him faster than he can control, now, he's being pulled in too many directions, can't breathe, can't feel the ground under his feet – _Oh_ , he thinks, and the last thing he's aware of is his knees giving out under him before everything goes black.


	18. regret

It's cold. So cold. And dark. He thinks he has his eyes open. He's not entirely sure. Maybe they're closed. But if they are, he doesn't know how to open them. His eyelids won't move. They're too heavy. Or maybe they're already open, maybe. He can't tell. It hardly matters. He can't feel anything but cold and dark anyway.

His legs won't move either. He can't really feel his arms. He's just – heavy, so heavy. Weightless. But heavy. Floating. Or lying on his back?

There is no up, no down. Nothing to hold onto, nothing to see or hear or feel or smell or – he doesn't have a voice, can't hear, he thinks maybe he's falling.

But if he is, it doesn't matter. Because there's nothing. Nothing around him, and nothing inside. Just the void dark blankness closing in on him, and then he doesn't even feel that anymore.

**

Light. Just a flicker of it. Maybe not really light, just – something. Warmth. 

...Pain. He knows pain. He's felt it before, a long time ago, or maybe very recently, he's not sure, isn't sure what time even means.

It's in his arms. In his legs. In his heart. The pain.

His head is confused, he can't – he can't -

There's a flicker again. It's small. Gone again immediately. Where is it coming from? What is it?

He waits, because there's nothing else he can do. 

The pain goes, but now he's nothing instead, nothing but shapeless weight, and that isn't right either. He can't do anything. He has no substance to do anything _with_. 

For long moments, he just floats, and then even the nothing fades away into the void.

**

Something shifts in the air, presses in around him, and there is the pain again. 

It's not so bad, the pain. At least he can feel, when it's there. 

He can't make sense of what that means, can't feel his own edges, isn't sure he has any. Can't even move, doesn't have anything he could move anyway. All he can do is be here, until he goes away again.

He waits, and he hurts, and there's pressure on his back but none on his front – he's lying down? How can he feel pressure if he's made of nothing, floating through empty space?

Another flicker, and this time he feels it, in his face, like a twitch – it's not a flicker of light at all, it's his eyelids blinking open for the smallest of seconds.

So he does have eyelids. He does have eyes. He knows he has them because they hurt, like every other part of him.

He tries to do it again. He likes that flicker. He thinks maybe if he gets it to last longer the floating will stop. Maybe the light will make him remember where his arms and legs are. Maybe he'll be real again.

But everything is so heavy, so confusing, so much, and he concentrates, tries to gather all of his strength, and finds none. There's just … nothing.

He tries again, and this time there it is, a sliver of light, painful, but so bright, so beautiful.

And – a voice? It's calling something. A word. A name. He doesn't know if it's _his_ name. He can't remember what his name is or if he even has one. 

It's not important. 

But he likes the voice. He thinks he would like it to call out his name.

Before he can grasp for it, find a meaning, hold onto the sound of the voice still calling out, he can feel himself slipping, sliding, losing his grasp on everything solid around him once again.

**

Waking up is a slow process. He can feel it happening long before he's able to take in any of his surroundings, and even when he becomes slowly aware of the smooth and soft surface beneath him, the quietness of the room, the light he can feel from behind his closed eyes, he still isn't able to move.

He wants to open his eyes, he kind of feels like maybe he should.

On the other hand, he's so tired, and it's warm and it's soft and he's so, so tired...

The fingers on his right hand are warmer than the ones on his left, and there's a different feeling to them, a different quality, like – touch. He knows touch. Remembers it. His fingers are touching something – no, someone's touching them. 

Someone's holding his hand.

It's a struggle, it takes what feels like days until he can gather the strength, but finally his eyelids lift and it's bright in the room, so bright, too bright. He blinks them shut again, just for a moment, and the next time lifting them is so much easier, goes so much better already.

At first he doesn't see much, his eyes adjusting to the light of the world after the endless darkness of wherever he was. But then things come into focus, slowly, and he sees a room, a room he's never seen before, he's in a bed, and there are shelves and a desk and – beside him, on the bed, there is someone else, lying down next to him, and holding onto his hand.

He does his best to turn his head a little more, to shift around on the mattress so he can get a better look.

The warmth that stabs through his chest makes him shiver, flooding his entire numb body with a feeling he knows, a feeling he knows a name for, but he can't remember right now. What he does know is one word, one thing on his mind, and maybe it means the same as the feeling that's prickling under his skin, waking up his tired, heavy body cell by cell.

“Kurt,” he whispers, surprised at the sound of his own barely-there voice. Speaking hurts. But he needed to say it. It's important. Maybe the most important word of all. The most beautiful word he knows anyway.

Kurt's head is on the pillow, his eyes closed, he's lying on his side so close to Blaine, and he looks – Blaine closes his eyes, opens them again, thinks. He feels it in his chest, but he can't name it. _Beautiful_ isn't strong enough, _perfect_ isn't entirely accurate.

He looks – he looks like Kurt. Maybe that's just the best word for it. He looks exactly right, just the way he's supposed to look. Like _Kurt_. The sight of him fills up every empty corner of Blaine's soul, and he doesn't feel much stronger, but he does feel just a little more present.

Kurt's hand is in his and Blaine feels down through his body for it, makes his fingers tighten around Kurt's, squeezing his hand a little. It's the best he can manage right now, sitting up is kind of out of the question. He's already feeling so tired again.

Kurt's head jerks up, eyes flying open. “Blaine?”

Blaine smiles, his face remembers how to do that. “Kurt,” he whispers again. It's such a lovely name. He likes saying it.

Kurt sucks in a sharp breath, sits up beside him, and Blaine sees how pale he is, dark circles under his red-rimmed eyes. “Blaine,” he says again, it comes out on the end of an exhale. “Oh my god, Blaine, thank _god._ ”

“Hey,” Blaine manages, holding on to Kurt's hand; he never wants to let go.

Kurt lets out a sob, it might be supposed to be a laugh, and lowers his head, touches his forehead to Blaine's. “ _Blaine_ ,” he says again, like it's very important. “You're awake, oh my god -” He sits up again, touches a hand to Blaine's cheek so gently. “Are you – okay, are you – does anything hurt? Can you – oh my god, you're _awake_!”

“I -” Blaine tries, wants to say something, but his throat is so dry and he's tired tired tired...

“Shh, don't talk if it hurts you,” Kurt says, and softly caresses Blaine's cheek with his fingers. “It's okay, everything's gonna be okay now.”

Blaine remembers something, makes his eyes stay open even though it's so tempting to just let them fall shut again. “Y-your – uh.” He clears his throat, ignores the pain. “Your – dad.”

Kurt nods, smiles. “He's fine. He's downstairs. Exhausted and shaken up, but they didn't hurt him.”

“We won?” Blaine manages. Fragments of memory are coming back, not quite fitting together yet, but through the mess of it all he knows enough to not understand any of this at all.

Kurt nods, raises Blaine's hand in both of his and presses it against his lips. “Thanks to you,” he whispers. “You were amazing. That was the bravest and stupidest thing I've ever seen anyone do in my life. Oh god, I'm so _glad_ you're awake, you have no idea!”

Blaine doesn't really understand – he remembers wanting to help, but he knows he couldn't have. He's – _normal_. Not an ounce of magic in his veins. But Kurt looks happy, so that makes him happy too.

He's about to give in to the exhaustion and let his eyes drift shut again when he remembers something else. “Were you – um.” He breaks off again, takes a breath, pushes his voice out through the roughness of his throat. “Saying my name? Earlier?”

Kurt nods. “I thought you were waking up a few times. I kept talking to you. Just in case.”

Blaine nods, at least he's pretty sure he does. “I could – hear you. I wasn't – wasn't sure what you were – saying, though.”

“Don't speak, honey,” Kurt says, and kisses his hand again. “You're exhausted. You've been asleep since we got back. Take your time. It's okay. I'll be here.”

“How – long?” Blaine asks.

Kurt brushes his fingers over his forehead, smiles, and he looks so tired. “The entire night, all through the next day, and all of tonight too. It's morning. The _next_ morning.”

“That's -” Blaine clears his throat again and Kurt shuffles around, reaches for the nightstand without letting go of Blaine's hand, and finally turns back to him with a glass of water.

“Here,” he says. “You should -”

Blaine looks up at him a little helplessly, can barely even lift his hands off the mattress, and Kurt nods.

“Of course, I'm sorry. Let me help you.”

He carefully helps Blaine shuffle a little higher on the pillow, slides an arm around his shoulders and lifts him up enough so he can hold the glass to his lips.

Blaine drinks a careful sip, and another one, but he can't manage much yet. His stomach protests at the feeling, so he turns his head away. “Later,” he says.

“Yeah.” Kurt sets the glass aside, lowers him down again, but lowers himself with him, propped up on one elbow lying there on his side next to Blaine, just looking down at him. “I'm so, so glad that you're okay. You have no idea, Blaine. I was – I was worried. If I'd lost you -” He swallows. “That would have been the biggest regret of my life.”

“'m okay,” Blaine slurs, then, “...what happened? I – can't – can't remember – all of it -”

“You saved us,” Kurt says.

“But – how?”

Kurt cups his cheek in one hand again, leans down to very gently kiss him on the lips. “You just did,” he says. “We would have lost. But you – I've never seen magic that bright before.” He smiles, lowers his eyes, and Blaine doesn't really understand.

“I'm not – I'm not -”

“No. You're not a mage,” Kurt says, guessing what Blaine was going to say. “Apparently you didn't have to be.”

“I don't – understand.” He wants to say more, but exhaustion is pulling him under already and his eyes keep falling shut.

“Sleep,” Kurt says, places a kiss next to his nose, rests their foreheads together. “Hiram has promised to come over later and check in on you. He might be able to explain, he's studied this stuff for ages. I'm afraid I don't really have any answers for you. I don't understand it myself, what happened. I'm just glad I didn't lose you.”

“I -” Blaine takes a breath, makes himself stay awake. He needs to say this. It's important. “Wouldn't have regretted it. If -”

“Blaine -”

“I did it for you,” he whispers. “If I – If – I would have had no regrets. None. I – did it for you.”

Kurt exhales, threads his fingers into Blaine's hair. “No,” he says. “You're not allowed to die saving us. Just for future reference. Not that I'm planning on doing something like this ever again.”

“I -” Blaine says, “I – I l-” He can't get the words out, his mind is slipping, he's so tired, so, so tired.

“It's okay,” Kurt whispers. “Go to sleep. You need your rest. And I'll be right here. I'll be right here, Blaine. As long as you need me. Always.”

And Blaine doesn't have the energy to fight off sleep anymore, but he still holds on tightly to Kurt's hand as he starts drifting away again.


	19. shift

The next time he wakes up, the light in the room seems softer, somehow, friendlier when he opens his eyes. Or maybe that's just because he's not so bone-deep exhausted anymore.

Kurt's not here this time, but someone is standing by the window, holding the curtain open and looking outside.

“Hi?” Blaine says carefully, and his visitor looks back at him over his shoulder.

“Ah, Blaine,” he says, nods at him, lets the curtain fall back over the window. “You're awake, excellent. Yes. Wonderful. I'll tell Kurt, shall I?”

It's Rachel's dad. One of them. Blaine doesn't remember which one right now. He's still a little tired. “Um,” he says, not quite sure what else to say. His throat still hurts. “Is he – 's okay, you don't -”

Rachel's dad holds up a hand. “He's just checking in on his father, but he made me promise, actually _swear_ , to inform him the minute you opened your eyes and I think he meant it, so -”

“'s okay,” Blaine rasps. “I'm – fine.”

“I only just came by to check up on both of you,” Rachel's dad says. “But it seems to me you're doing okay. Burt wasn't actually hurt, just dehydrated and stressed out, and you'll be fine with a little, um, rest, I'm sure; just take it easy for a few days. This was a very successful rescue operation. Interesting too.”

Blaine just blinks at him, he isn't quite sure what exactly _interesting_ could possibly mean in this context. But then, his thoughts are still slow, sluggish. “Tired,” he says.

“Well, that was to be expected,” Rachel's dad sighs, just as the door to the room opens and Kurt walks back in.

“Blaine,” he says, as he sees him awake, sounds very happy as he hurries over to the bed, drops onto the mattress beside Blaine to take his hand again. “You're awake! How are you?”

“...Fine,” Blaine assures him, smiles, then actually takes a second to glance around the room. “Where am I?”

“My room,” Kurt explains. “Well, my old room, not my dorm room, obviously.”

Blaine nods. “We're in Lima? This is your house?”

“Yes.”

“How did we – get here?”

“You were out cold after the, ah, confrontation, so we had to shift you here,” Rachel's dad explains.

Blaine blinks. “Shift -?”

“It's like … teleportation,” Kurt says. “Like … you shift something to a different place, along with yourself. It needs a lot of magic to shift people and it's risky, but we couldn't stay there and we couldn't risk putting you on the back of a Pegasus unconscious.”

“You teleported me?”

“It probably contributed to your exhaustion,” Rachel's dad says. “Sorry about that. Magic is draining on the non-magical and you were drained already. But we had no choice, we had to get you out, and Burt too before they could recapture him.”

“What about Hunter?” Blaine asks.

Kurt shakes his head. “Our spell muted him temporarily. Thanks to your help. He couldn't stop us from leaving. My dad and Mercedes and Hiram here went straight to the other families and gathered the coven while the rest of us got you back here safely. The Claringtons won't be a problem anymore.”

“What happened to them?” Blaine asks.

“They are no longer a part of our coven,” Hiram explains. “Their powers have been muted until a proper trial can be held to determine whether or not the condition needs to be made permanent.”

“How did you defeat Hunter?” Blaine wants to know. He can't figure it out. “I saw you guys casting the spell, but it was failing. And I thought I could let you use me to give you an extra boost, so I took Quinn's hand and – and I'm not sure what happened next.”

“Oh, yeah. You gave us a bit more than just a little extra boost,” Hiram says.

“Yes, you said you'd explain that,” Kurt falls in. “Because I also still don't understand it. Blaine's not a mage, but when he joined our circle – I could feel it, _him_ , it was like the magic just erupted from him. It was so strong. I've never felt anything like it before. It was like – like I could feel only him and nothing else anymore.”

“He's not a mage,” Hiram agrees. “That doesn't mean he has no magic. The spell was so strong because what he _added_ to it was incredibly strong. He didn't just add a bit of resonance. He quadrupled the power of our spell. At least that.”

“But how?” Blaine asks, confused. “I'm not – I can't. How did I do that?”

“An unconscious resonator will give you a boost, but with very weak results,” Hiram explains. “Someone willing will increase the output of magic in direct correlation to the power of his motivation. Emotions are the strongest motivation of all. They are the biggest resonance imaginable. Some of them are so strong they even carry their own power. Their own magic. I have researched this for years, it's fascinating because it's a universal power. It's the most powerful magic in the world, but _everyone_ has it, even non-magical people.”

“Emotions?” Kurt asks. “I don't understand. Like – fear? What -”

“Oh,” Blaine says, blushing as he understands. He squeezes Kurt's hand, lowers his eyes, and … of course. Yes. It makes sense.

“Love, of course” Hiram says. “It's the only thing that could have produced a magical spike like that. The effect of our spell was so strong because Blaine didn't just resonate, he poured his own magic into it as well, a magic that is far older and far more powerful than anything we use for our spells. He didn't need to be a mage for that. It's _raw_ magic. Intensely powerful.”

“I wanted to help you,” Blaine says, carefully raising his head, meeting Kurt's eyes. “I – that was enough? What I – what I felt? What I – feel?”

Kurt's eyes widen. “Blaine -”

“It was more than enough,” Hiram says. “Blaine's emotions tapping right into the most potent magic of all, in combination with Kurt's equal response to Blaine's presence and a child's love for his father that Kurt was already pouring into the spell before Blaine ever joined us – love from three angles. Hunter never stood a chance against us, not even with the entire Clarington's household staff he had compelled to resonate for him. That's also why you, Kurt, felt Blaine so strongly because of the connection you two share, it was, uh, quite obvious, the merging of your two individual essences. It was – well, I guess it's, ah, quite romantic, really, isn't it? When you think about it. But I feel that maybe my presence here isn't necessary right at this moment -”

“I -” Blaine says, unable to take his eyes off of Kurt's face.

“I'm gonna go check on Burt,” Hiram announces, and ducks out of the room.

“Oh my god,” Kurt says, looking overwhelmed, his face flushed. “Blaine – I -”

Blaine tugs at his hand. “I, um. How freaked out are you right now? I just – I wanted to tell you. Before. I've been thinking about it a lot. But I didn't want to rush it and I guess – well, I guess now you know anyway.” He'd wanted to come up with a gesture. And he's managed to find a pretty good one, he thinks.

“You really -”

“I'm just glad it worked,” he says. “I'm glad it was enough.”

“You know I feel the same way about you, right?” Kurt asks.

He's tired and he's hurting, but right in this moment, he thinks he's never been happier. “You do?”

Kurt nods, squeezes Blaine's hand in his. “Oh god, Blaine. Of course I do. I – of _course_ I do. Have you met you? I just – Blaine, I – oh my god -”

Blaine pulls him down for a hug, but Kurt kisses him instead. He's absolutely okay with that.


	20. time

Blaine stays in bed the entire next day.

He really doesn't feel much like getting up; he's still exhausted and on top of that Kurt has made him promise not to leave the bed if he doesn't have to, has been bringing him cups of tea and fussing over him and slipping under the covers with him to just hold him until Blaine falls back asleep once again.

They cuddle a lot, between Blaine's naps. And every time he wakes up, he feels stronger, better.

He's happy, most of all. Because Kurt knows now, how Blaine feels about him, and promises he feels the same. There's a lot to be happy about.

It's early evening by the time Blaine feels awake enough to attempt some food – Kurt brings him soup and actually feeds him because Blaine's hands are still shaking when he pushes himself too hard. It's a little embarrassing, but mostly really nice, to be taken care of.

“You just need some time,” Kurt assures him. “Too much magic – it drains you. But with enough sleep and just taking it easy for a few days you'll be be up and about again in no time.”

Blaine frowns. “What about finals?”

Kurt brushes his fingers through Blaine's messy curls. “You should be back on your feet for that. I hope. Hiram says you can go back to class in a few days and we have a few doctors in the coven; any one of them will be happy to write you a note for your professors saying you had the flu. Or whatever you want them to say. You saved all of their asses. They no longer have to be afraid of the Claringtons. You can pretty much get whatever you want from any of us, I guess.”

“It wasn't just me,” Blaine says, takes Kurt's hand and threads their fingers together. “It was _us_. Wasn't it? It only worked because it wasn't just me, and it wasn't just all of you. It was … us.”

“Us,” Kurt says, and sounds very happy about it. “I love the sound of that.”

“Yeah. Me too.”

“By the way.” Kurt grins. “There's a whole group of people waiting to see you – mostly Sam. But everyone else too. Mercedes, Rachel, Tina, Elliott – everyone, really. I told them to come back tomorrow when you're feeling stronger. I hope that was okay.”

“Yes, thank you,” Blaine assures him. He is glad that they care about him but he would like a chance to take a shower before letting them see him. “Tomorrow sounds good.”

Kurt nods and kisses him, and proceeds to feeds him the rest of his soup. And then Blaine takes another nap. Because he really is exhausted, and also he can't get up anyway. He has time for another nap.

**

It's evening and Kurt is checking up on his dad – he's been dividing his time between Blaine and his father. 

Blaine wakes from another long nap, still feeling a little worn out but for the first time since yesterday also kind of rested. Like maybe he could actually try getting to the bathroom by himself instead of needing Kurt's support to take the few steps down the hall. He really needs to pee and he doesn't like to call Kurt back from spending time with his dad for something like this. It's embarrassing.

With some difficulty he manages to sit up with his legs dangling over the edge of the bed, heaves himself to his feet, hands bracing his weight against the mattress. Slowly, slowly, he straightens up, stands there, and just for a moment he's hit with terrible vertigo, sways on his feet … But then it passes and he feels almost okay if a bit shaky, takes a careful step, and then another.

It takes him a few minutes and he's wobbly on his feet and walking is a lot more tiring than he remembers, but he does make it out of the room, down the hall and into the bathroom.

Everything takes so long, his movements slow and unsure, but he manages. He almost falls asleep leaning against the sink as he's washing his hands, takes the opportunity to splash his face with some cold water – to stay awake and also because he's really starting to feel a little gross. 

Definitely shower time tomorrow. Kurt is amazing for still cuddling with him like this. If he'd needed any proof of Kurt's feelings for him, this would have absolutely been enough.

Once he's done, he even makes it all the way back again to Kurt's bed, one hand trailing along the wall for balance.

He reaches the bed and just tips forward – his muscles are trembling with exhaustion at this point and just releasing them at last feels like such a relief. 

He just breathes for a few moments, then rolls over onto his back, shuffles up and back to stretch out on the mattress, sinks down into the pillows with a relieved sigh. He's proud of himself for making it, but he feels like he just ran a marathon.

He's barely settled again when the door opens and Kurt comes in, frowning as he sees Blaine all disheveled and exhausted with the covers still bunched at the foot of the bed.

“Are you okay?” he asks, hurrying over to sit on the edge of the mattress, resting a careful hand on Blaine's cheek.

Blaine nods. “Just – had to go – bathroom.”

Kurt shakes his head. “You went by yourself? You should have called for me, I would have -”

“It's okay, Kurt,” he says. “I didn't mind. And I can't keep you from everything all the time, you must have -”

“You're not keeping me from anything,” Kurt promises, reaches for the covers to pull them up over Blaine again, tucking him in firmly. “I want to take care of you. I _want_ to. Okay? Nothing is more important to me right now.”

“But, Kurt -”

Kurt shakes his head again, leans down to kiss him on the lips, effectively silencing him. “Don't argue,” he whispers. “Please. Please let me show you how much I care, okay? I – You're important to me, Blaine. I _want_ to help, I'm not bothered by any of it.”

“I know,” Blaine promises, smiles up at him, Kurt's face still so close to his. And he _does_ know. The way Kurt touches him and looks at him – he can just feel it. He feels loved. Cared for.

“And if I can do anything at all to help you while you recover, I'll do it,” Kurt says. “I want to. I just want to be there for you.”

“You're important to me too, Kurt,” Blaine tells him. “You know that.”

“I – know,” Kurt says quietly. “I could feel it, when you -” He breaks off, kisses him again. “I could feel it,” he whispers. “I didn't know what it meant at the time, I didn't know – God, Blaine. I'm really happy, do you know that? Because of you.”

“The feeling is completely mutual,” Blaine says.

For a minute, they just stay like this, Kurt's hands cupping Blaine's face, eyes locked. Then Kurt clears his throat, sits up, smiles down at him.

“Well, anyway,” he says. “My dad's insisting on walking around the house like a healthy person who hasn't just been saved from being held hostage. You know, instead of resting like I very clearly told him to, repeatedly. And he says he'd like to meet you. Since – you know, you saved him, and you're my boyfriend, and you're sort of his house guest right now. So I told him I'd see if you were awake. I can tell him you're resting if you're not up for it.”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, that's fine, I'd love to meet him,” he says, even though he's not so entirely sure about that. But on the other hand, he is in Burt Hummel's house, eating his food and using his water and electricity and all that. And also, he's dating Kurt and he's planning on sort of doing that for a really very long time, and so the only polite thing to do is to meet the man and shake his hand even if he does wish he could have showered first and maybe done something with his hair. He knows it looks rather … interesting, by now.

“Are you sure?” Kurt asks, brushing a hand through Blaine's curls, probably messing them up even more.

“Of course,” Blaine says.

Kurt kisses him again, rests their foreheads together. “All right. I'll go get him.”

“Okay.”

“And afterwards I'll find you some dinner, and then we can have an early night, if you want? I just kind of want to crawl into bed with you and cuddle for the next few days.”

“That sounds perfect,” Blaine says, because, well. It does.


	21. underneath

While Kurt is gone, Blaine does his best to comb through his hair with his fingers, trying to get it a bit more under control, wishes desperately it were a little less greasy. He can't do anything about how pale he looks or the fact that he's currently too weak to get out of bed – but even if he could manage to get up, all he's wearing is a pair of Kurt's yoga pants and a washed out _Hummel Tires and Lube_ shirt. He's even wearing a pair of Kurt's briefs since he didn't really take the time to pack anything before he rushed off to Ohio on the back of a magical creature.

He tries not to think about the fact that he's in his boyfriend's bed and wearing his boyfriend's clothes, and that this is now the first impression his boyfriend's father will have of him. It's … not exactly the kind of situation he imagined for a first meeting.

It takes only a few minutes before the door to (his boyfriend's) bedroom opens again, and Kurt comes walking inside, offering Blaine a smile so warm and encouraging Blaine has no choice but to smile back.

The man who enters the room behind Kurt is taller than him, heavy, almost bald, strong-looking. He _looks_ like a mechanic, with his flannel shirt and his big hands. Not at all how he imagined Kurt's father. He looks as if he could pretty much crush Blaine in one hand. The serious look on his face does little too calm Blaine's already overexcited nerves.

“Blaine,” Kurt says, sitting down at the edge of the bed again, taking Blaine's hand, apparently not caring at all that they're not alone. Blaine tries not to flinch too visibly “This is my dad. Dad, this is Blaine.”

Kurt's dad nods at him, and Blaine can't decipher his expression at all. “You're the guy who saved us.”

It's not a question, and Blaine isn't sure what to say.

“Um,” he settles for. “I – guess. Hi. I'm, uh, Blaine.”

“Yeah, I know.” The hint of a smile appears on Kurt's dad's face as he stretches out a hand – a surprisingly sunny smile. “It's real nice to meet you, kid. I've heard a lot about you. Like, a _lot_. In fact, Kurt would barely shut up about you every time he called.”

“Dad,” Kurt reprimands, lowers his eyes, blushing.

“All good things,” his dad adds quickly.

“It's – nice to meet you. _Too_. Nice to meet you too. I -” Blaine says, pauses. This is beyond weird, he thinks as he shakes his boyfriend's dad's hand for the first time, still in his boyfriend's bed. “I've heard a lot about you too, sir.”

“The name's Burt,” Kurt's dad says, walks around the bed and settles in the chair. “No need for formality, son. You saved my life out there. More importantly, you saved my son's life. So. Thank you for that. Seriously. Takes a certain kind of person to do that kind of thing. I owe you. More than I can ever repay. We all do.”

Blaine shakes his head, feeling suddenly shy. “I was just trying to help.”

“Well, you did,” Burt says. “Risking quite a lot in the process.”

“I wasn't really thinking about that so much at the time,” Blaine admits. “All I was thinking about was – um.” He shuts his mouth, lowers his eyes as he feels his face flush hotly. All he thought about in the moment was Kurt and how much he needed him to be okay. He's not sure this is the appropriate kind of reveal while he's _in Kurt's bed_ wearing Kurt's underwear while talking to Kurt's father.

“I know,” Burt says from his chair. “Hiram's been to see me. He explained all about it.” He smirks. “I know what you were thinking about.”

“Oh.” Blaine swallows. “Sir, I -”

“I'm happy for you guys,” Burt cuts him off. “Magic doesn't lie. This means something, what you've found with each other.”

“It does,” Kurt says quietly, his eyes meeting Blaine's. “It means a lot.”

“Yes,” Blaine confirms. Because it means _everything_. Kurt means everything.

“And for the record, I knew that before you risked your life for us,” Kurt says, smiles a little crookedly. “So please don't do it again.”

Blaine squeezes his hand and attempts a smile – he thinks it's okay to smile. Burt doesn't seem to care that all of this is a little unconventional. “I'm fine, Kurt,” he promises. “I'm just tired.”

“You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to, of course,” Burt tells him. “You must be exhausted. So, just take it easy. Let us know if you need anything. Anything at all.”

“Thank you,” Blaine says. “I appreciate that. But I'm hoping to make it back to New York in time for finals.”

Burt nods. “Kurt tells me you're Broadway-bound too.”

“That's the plan.” Blaine nods. “It's always been my dream.”

“Oh, by the way.” Kurt falls in. “I've been meaning to ask. Do you want to call your parents? You didn't have your phone with you and I don't have their number, so I couldn't contact them for you. But they're only like two hours away, if you want them to come over -”

Blaine shakes his head. “No, that's okay. I – I don't think I want to tell them. At least not yet. My mom gets so worried, and really, I'm fine. I'm also not sure she would believe all the magic stuff.”

“We could make up a story,” Burt suggests.

“I'll see her over the holidays soon,” Blaine says. “It's okay. But thank you!”

Burt stays for another half hour, and slowly but surely Blaine can feel his nervousness fade. He feels nothing but welcome here – underneath his rough exterior Burt reminds him so much of Kurt. Outwardly so different, they are also so similar: the same kindness, humor, honesty. When Burt tells him he can stay as long as he needs, Blaine believes him.

Before he leaves, he claps a hand to Blaine's shoulder, meets his eyes. “Thanks again, kid. Now get some rest. You've more than earned it.”

Once he's gone, door closed behind him, Kurt simply lifts the covers and slips under them next to Blaine, cuddling in close. “He likes you.”

Blaine hums. “I'm glad.”

“ _I_ like you.”

He chuckles, turns his head to press his face to Kurt's neck. “I like you too. A lot.”

“We should take another nap,” Kurt suggests. “I'm tired.”

“You have the best ideas,” Blaine says, and smiles as Kurt's arms tighten around him.

“I know,” Kurt says, and kisses Blaine's forehead. “That's why I'm dating you.”


	22. vow

The next day, Blaine feels strong enough to get up again. He's still a bit wobbly on his legs, but with Kurt's arm around his waist he makes it all the way downstairs, wearing a fresh pair of Kurt's pants and a sweater that's a bit too big for him, but that just makes it all the more comfortable.

Everyone is downstairs – Burt of course, and Carole, who has been checking in on him regularly when she wasn't at work. Finn is there, Kurt's brother – Blaine hasn't seen that much of him yet, but he likes him. And then there are both Rachel's dads, Rachel, Mercedes, Elliott, Tina, Mike, Brittany, Artie and Quinn. And Sam, of course, sitting on the arm of the Hummel's couch and looking nervous until he spots Blaine stumbling his way through the door at Kurt's side.

“Dude!” He's up in a flash, crossing the room in a few big strides to pull Blaine into a tight hug, tight enough Blaine feels a few of his ribs creaking in protest. “I was _worried_ about you. What the fuck, man! You couldn't have waited for me before you did something stupid like that?”

“Uh, no,” Blaine mumbles into Sam's shoulder. “Sorry. I really couldn't.”

Sam pulls back, claps a hand to his shoulder, using the other one to ruffle Blaine's curls (which he finally got to wash this morning, taking a shower in Kurt's bathroom). “I know. I was just – really worried. Like, _really_ worried.”

“Sorry,” Blaine says again, but he's smiling now. It's good, having friends who worry about you.

He lets his eyes sweep across the room, over all those faces turned toward him, smiling, and he feels warm inside.

Kurt tightens his arm around him for a moment before gently helping him over to the couch. “We were all worried,” he says.

“That was some insane magic we did,” Artie says. “I've never felt anything like it before. Are you okay, man? I know it can be a lot to handle for the non-magical if it's just a normal amount. And that was no normal amount. My insides are still buzzing.”

Blaine nods. “I'm fine, thank you. A little tired, but that's already getting better.”

“We wanted to see you yesterday, but Kurt informed us that you were sleeping,” Rachel says. “My dad says you'll need some days to regain your full strength.”

“I guess.” Blaine shrugs, sits down on the couch, Kurt squeezing in beside him so Blaine can lean against his shoulder. They like being close, after the excitement of the last few days. “I just should probably be getting back to New York. I still have classes, and finals are coming up.”

“I'll take the plane with you,” Kurt says.

“But, Kurt -” Blaine shakes his head at him. “We don't both have to pay for tickets. You can just pop over, I'll be fine.”

“Just take Peter,” Brittany speaks up before Kurt has a chance to argue. “He's flying Sam back over tonight, he can come back tomorrow and get Blaine.”

“I'd like to stay with him for the trip,” Kurt says, looking at Brittany.

She nods. “Sure. No problem. Just send him back when you get there. I was gonna stay here for a few more days anyway, Lord Tubbington is back from his Canada trip and wanted to catch up.”

Blaine frowns. “I thought Lord Tubbington was a cat.”

Tina laughs. “Most of the time, he is. Because he prefers it that way. He likes to take long naps and have his neck rubbed.”

“Oh.” Blaine nods, and decides not to ask any further questions at this time – he's had enough new information for a few weeks at least ever since this whole adventure began.

They have coffee together and there is cake – Blaine is hungry after sleeping so much and even though they had sandwiches for lunch earlier, he eats a whole slice, and then he feels sleepy again.

Their friends stay for over an hour, talking and laughing and eating, and Blaine rests his head on Kurt's shoulder, Kurt's arm firmly around his waist, and watches them, smiles, enjoys the comforting buzz of their conversation, their laughter. He feels – good. Tired still, but also so, so good.

He likes these people. It's nice to know that they care about him too. Because if he has his way, his and Kurt's lives will stay tangled up in each other for a very, very long time, and it's probably a good idea to get along with his friends. It's not difficult. He loves them already. Especially Tina, who comes to sit next to him, entertaining him with stories from their old glee club.

Once everyone leaves, Kurt helps Carole clean up the mess they left behind and then wants to stay with his dad for a little bit. Finn helps Blaine back upstairs, which is a little difficult because he's so tall and has to crouch down low, tip sideways awkwardly so Blaine can put an arm around his shoulders.

“I may actually have to skip my dance final this semester,” Blaine sighs, knees wobbling a little as he climbs the stairs.

“Yeah.” Finn helps him all the way upstairs, leads him down the hall to Kurt's room where Blaine hobbles the last few steps over to Kurt's bed, sinks down onto the mattress with a relieved sigh.

“Thanks for helping me.”

Finn nods. “I wanted to – um. Thank you too. You know. For everything.”

Blaine nods, smiles at him. “I already told Kurt – it was less of a conscious decision and more of a – spontaneous idea. It was probably stupid, but I'm glad that it worked.”

Finn shakes his head. “Yeah, uh. no. I didn't mean – Not just that. The magic stuff. The resonating. I mean, yeah, that too. That was really awesome of you. And really brave and everything. But I meant – you know. For being there for him before. He told me all about how you guys all met up at your place, all those people, and how cool you were with all of it, and – I think he's doing okay now, but he's not always had the easiest time, back in high school. We weren't always there for him the way we maybe should have been, and … I guess I just mean that I'm really glad he has you now. It's good to see him like this. He deserves it. He deserves nice things.”

“Oh.” Blaine lowers his head, feels himself blush a little. “Yes. He deserves all the nice things.”

“He seems happy,” Finn says. “I mean – a little stressed out after his dad got kidnapped and with school stuff still happening and all that. Yeah. But – he also seems really happy.”

“I hope so.” Blaine looks up at Finn, face serious. “I want him to be.”

“It's good that he has you.” Finn grins at him. “And he really likes you. I can tell.”

Blaine blushes again. “I'll be there for him,” he says. “I promise. I want to be. I mean, I hope nothing like this ever happens again, but -”

“Yeah, I get it,” Finn assures him, offering a crooked smile. “Thanks, man.”

Blaine nods, and it feels like such a big promise, an important one, and he means every word of it. He already feels so tangled up in Kurt's life, and nothing has ever made him happier. He wants to keep this. Wants to be with Kurt. For as long as he possibly can. He _wants_ to promise this.

Footsteps are coming down the hallway outside and a moment later, Kurt walks through the door, smiling at both of them. “Hey,” he says in Finn's direction. “Everything okay here?”

“Yeah, yeah, sure.” Finn hurries to assure him, then gives Kurt a quick and slightly awkward but obviously very well-meant hug before backing away toward the door. “Just talking. I'll leave you two alone now. Bye!”

Kurt looks after him, shakes his head, then turns around to Blaine, sits down on the bed beside him. “Hi.”

Blaine takes his hand laces their fingers together. “Hi yourself.”

Kurt laughs, places a quick kiss on his lips. “Ready to go home tomorrow?”

“Of course.” Blaine squeezes his hand. “Thanks for letting me stay here so long.”

Kurt kisses him again, not without rolling his eyes at him first. “After helping us save my dad's life.” He pushes Blaine further up onto the bed, crawls up after him, pulls the covers over them both and snuggles in against his side. “You're welcome to stay here any time.”

“Thank you.”

“Not just because you helped save my dad's life,” Kurt says, lifts his head to look down at him. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah,” Blaine says, heart beating hard in his chest. “I know.”

“Good.” Kurt's smile is happy as he lowers his head back down, stuffs his face into the crook of Blaine's neck.

Blaine presses his face against Kurt's soft hair, grins, and closes his eyes. Time for another nap.


	23. wish

Leaving for New York isn't the easiest thing. 

Blaine is mostly happy to be going back, but he knows that Kurt is having a difficult time saying goodbye to his dad, even if it's just for a very short while until they'll all be back for the holidays.

But after lunch they have to leave anyway; they have to get back to school, to worry about finals, because life goes on even when impossible things happen.

Peter is waiting for them in the Hummel's backyard, and Burt, Carole and Finn come back out onto the back porch to see them off.

Kurt helps Blaine up first, then swings himself up behind him, wraps his arms firmly around Blaine's waist.

“Ready?” he asks.

Blaine nods. “As I'll ever be.”

This time, he is prepared for the rather steep take-off, knows better just how to hold on so he won't slide off. He's also wearing gloves to protect his fingers, and Kurt spelled a pair of pilot's goggles onto his face to protect his eyes from the bitter-cold wind up above the clouds.

They don't talk much while they're in the air – the rushing of the wind is loud and also, Blaine knows Kurt's thoughts are still back in Lima, worrying about his father. Burt assured them he was fine, but Blaine knows that he's not a healthy man to begin with, and Kurt is worried that the kidnapping might have put too much of a strain on his already fragile heart. Kurt has at least managed to get him to agree to let Finn run the garage until January so he can take it easy for a while.

Almost two hours after take-off Peter deposits the two of them safely on the roof of Blaine's building.

Blaine pets him while Kurt feeds him an apple he had in his jacket pocket for him, and then they send him back to Brittany.

“I'll miss him,” Blaine says, watching him disappear into the clouds.

“We can visit him over the holidays,” Kurt offers.

“That would be nice.”

“I think we'll have to hang out with all of them over the holidays,” Kurt says. “They'll probably insist. Rachel mentioned a party. Her parties are – well. You'll see.”

“I'd like that, actually.” Blaine takes Kurt's gloved hand in his, links their fingers together. “I like your friends.”

“They like you too.”

“I like you most of all, though,” Blaine promises, smiles at him.

“That's good.” Kurt tugs at his hand so that Blaine stumbles against his chest. “Because I like you most of all too.”

They kiss in the wintry cold air on the roof of Blaine's building, cheeks frozen and their lips a little numb, but it's still perfect.

**

They spend the day cuddled up on Blaine's couch – Sam is staying with Mercedes for the night, since the two are as reluctant to be apart after the craziness of the past few days as Kurt and Blaine are.

Kurt is quiet, and Blaine just holds him, legs tangled, arms firmly around each other.

“Are you okay?” Blaine asks after a while, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of Kurt's face.

Kurt lifts his head, looks at him, and his smile is wide, eyes shining. “Yes, of course,” he promises. “I'm just – I'm sorry, I'm exhausted. But I'm okay. More than okay. I'm – happy.”

“Good,” Blaine says, smiles back at him.

“Blaine -” Kurt pauses, bites his lip.

“What is it?”

“I love you,” Kurt says.

Blaine looks at him, his breath dropping out of him, heart racing in his chest. They'd _sort of_ told each other, after Blaine woke up, but neither one of them had used the actual words yet. It feels … Hearing it, it feels....

“Kurt.”

“I've been thinking about the perfect way to tell you,” Kurt says. “I wanted – I wish I had a way to prove it, the same way you did, but I don't know – I just want you to know. Because it's true. I love you, Blaine.”

“You don't need to prove it,” Blaine whispers, cheeks hurting with how wide he's smiling. “I already know.”

“I just wish -”

Blaine surges forward, silences him with a kiss. “I love you too,” he says, against Kurt's lips. “I love you.”

“Every year,” Kurt says quietly, fingers carded through Blaine's curls, “Every single year before now, I'd end my year wishing that in the next I'd find … _someone_. I just wanted, I wanted what everyone else already seems to have. What they all seem to find so easily. And then … I found you. Blaine -” He pulls back a little, meets his eyes again. “I don't believe in fate, but I did wish for you. For so long.”

“Same here,” Blaine assures him. “Kurt – I think I've been looking for you forever.”


	24. yesterday

They travel the traditional way back to Ohio, for the holidays, once they've both made it through their finals. Because as both Kurt and Mercedes keep pointing out, teleportation requires insane amounts of magic and it wouldn't be safe for Sam and Blaine anyway.

At least this way, Blaine gets to introduce Kurt to his mom at the Ohio end of the journey where she picks him up from the airport; something he has been looking forward to for quite some time. It goes as well as he had hoped, which is not surprising, but still very welcome. His mom _loves_ Kurt instantly. She talks about nothing but him for the rest of the holidays, insists that Blaine invite him over as soon as Kurt has time.

For New Year's they have plans with their friends – their mage friends, the ones from Kurt's coven and Elliott. Apparently Rachel has a basement that is their traditional New Year's party spot, and Blaine is looking forward to seeing them all again.

Two days earlier, though, they decide to have their own private end-of-the-year party, just the two of them. Kurt comes over, which makes Blaine's mom very happy, and Kurt takes Blaine out on a date in the middle of wintry Ohio.

They walk for a bit, travel mugs with hot cocoa clasped in their hands – Kurt simply spells the drinks warm again every time they start going cold.

Back at Blaine's house they head straight for the back yard to build a snowman.

“I haven't done this in years,” Blaine admits, grinning widely as he rolls the biggest foundation he can manage.

Building a snowman with magic is awesome – Kurt simply hums a note and the snowballs stack themselves without breaking. “Me neither,” he says. “Although Brittany built a whole army of them in my backyard last winter. She kept making more snow. It was crazy.”

Once their snowman has a face made of rocks and twigs and the scarf Blaine got for him, they make their way back inside, cold and shivering, but very, very happy.

His mom has gone out by now to meet some friends, so Blaine takes Kurt straight upstairs to his room – he's hoping for a little cuddling time to get warm or possibly even a little something more than that.

Kurt looks around with a smile once Blaine has the door closed behind them, takes a few steps further into the room.

“I like it,” he says. “It looks like you.”

“Thanks.”

He looks down at Blaine's desk, curious. “What's this?”

“Oh.” Blaine walks over to him, slips his arms around Kurt's waist from behind and hooks his chin over his shoulder. “Just some scrapbooking. I've been working on it over the holidays.”

On his desk, there's an open scrapbook, a collection of photos, and a few random things that remind him of Kurt. Most of the photos are of the two of them.

“I like this one,” Kurt says, one fingertip tracing the edge of a photo taken a few weeks ago, before their adventure. Kurt had stayed over that night and they had just been getting ready to go out. In the photo, they are standing by the door of Blaine's apartment, Kurt reaching to fix Blaine's bow tie at the same time Blaine is reaching to adjust Kurt's scarf. Their eyes are locked, amused, affectionate smiles on both of their faces.

“Sam sent me that,” Blaine says. “I love it.”

“I love you,” Kurt says, taking one of Blaine's hands that are resting on his belly, lifts it to kiss his palm. “Can I see the rest?”

“I love you too. And, yeah. Sure,” Blaine agrees, places a single kiss to the back of Kurt's neck. “I mean, it's not done, but -”

Kurt picks up the book, turns back a page as Blaine lets go of him to step up beside him so he'll be able to see better.

“What's this?” Kurt asks, eyes curious as he shows the previous page to Blaine where a simple blue paper clip is taped to the page.

“Oh.” Blaine laughs, bumps their shoulders together. “You don't remember? That's the paper clip you made for me. Out of a rock. Back when you were trying to prove to me that magic was real.”

Kurt looks touched. “You kept that?”

Blaine nudges his nose against Kurt's playfully. “Of course I did.”

“If I'd known you were going to keep it I would have made something cooler,” Kurt says.

“No!” Blaine shakes his head at him. “This is perfect. And it worked, didn't it?”

Instead of answering, Kurt puts the book down, turns to him fully, and kisses him, soft and deep and so, so gentle. “I love that we have enough memories for a scrapbook already,” he whispers.

“And we'll be making more,” Blaine promises. “So many more memories.”

Kurt drapes his arms around his shoulders, pulls him closer. “I can't wait.” he says, before leaning in for another kiss.


End file.
